Collateral damage
by Eyghon
Summary: AU. Irina is working for the SVR and kidnaps Syd to save Jack's life.
1. Prologue

**COLLATERAL DAMAGE**  
Eyghon

**Author's notes: **It's my first Alias fic, and I'm French, so I'm sorry if I messed up somewhere. This is a prologue so it's kind of short, but I do hope that you'll still read and review it. Also, I'm a big fan of Irina and I wish there have been more Syd/Irina's moments in the show, so my fic will be like half about that. It's obvious, but I'm going to say it anyway, I don't speak Russian but Irina and her SVR buddies do, so you just have to pretend that they are talking in Russian.

**Summary: **It's hard to make one which sounds appealing without giving too much away. It's kind of an Alternate Universe, but still, it sticks to the show for some major details.  
OK, here it comes: After leaving America when Sydney was 6 years old, Irina was "re-educated" in Kashmir and sent back in the field to work for the KGB. When the USSR collapsed, she joined its replacement, the SVR, and has worked for them ever since. There is no SD-6, no "The Man", but Jack does works for the CIA, without Sydney's knowledge, who is now a regular soon-to-be adult.

**Prologue**

Fyodor Chevchenko held a meeting in his office with his top agents, two men and a woman. All three were listening to him with rapt attention.

"Jack Bristow managed to escape Taipei with our disk. It contained important intel on both the SVR and the CIA, gathered by the Japanese intelligence. Needless to say, as soon as they decipher it, we will be vulnerable. It should have been them in this position! We had this disk, we could have had some of the names of their agents, some of their knowledge, some of the locations of their agencies and safe houses… but no! Bristow had to steal it from our agent, killing him in the process! He's always getting in our way, making us look like fools!" The man burning with rage, ranting, but quietly concluded: "It would do some good damage to the CIA if they were to lose him."

"What do you suggest we do, Sir?" Asked the youngest, Nikolai Valenkov, not sure what his boss was asking him to do.

"He must be terminated immediately."

The woman flinched, but quickly covered it. "Isn't it a little extreme, Sir?"

"Why do you think that, Agent Derevko?" He smirked at her, his contempt clearly showing.

Irina had to act carefully, as Chevchenko was well aware of who Jack was, or rather, has been, to her: her husband, and the father of her child, back in America, so many years ago.

"Well, as you said, he would be an important loss for his agency, as he is very skilled…"

"Are you praising an enemy agent, Miss Derevko?" growled her boss. He voluntarily called her Miss instead of Agent. It was well known here in Moscow SVR's Headquarters that Fyodor Chevchenko was against the employ of women in the SVR's ranks, and that he despised those whom he was forced to mix with.

"No Sir! I am merely saying that instead of terminating him, we should use him to our advantage." Being called "Miss" was not pleasant as it was meant disrespectfully here.

"And how do you suggest we do that, of what use could it be to us?" He didn't see the point of her request and was intent on showing her. "He was captured several times by different agencies over the world and never gave away anything. Capturing him ourselves and torturing him would only be a waste of our time."

Irina had come up with a plan a few hours ago, actually, she had started plotting different courses of action when rumours about an American agent about to be terminated had spread throughout the office.

Before, she wasn't yet aware of the identity of said agent, but had assumed the worst, and planned ahead. Jack was an excellent agent, probably the best, and had been causing trouble to the SVR, among others, for some time now. She knew that it was only a matter of time before her superiors decided to get rid of him, even if it meant unleashing the wrath of the "o so powerful" CIA on Russia.

She couldn't warn Jack that there was going to be a contract on his head, because he believed her to be dead, plus, it would be the death of her. She could not let him be killed either because of what it would do to their daughter. She couldn't imagine her little girl, though now past the teenager stage, lose another parent. Still, she was not sure that she was making the right decision by exposing her plan to her superior, because if she was given the go ahead, it would jeopardize Sydney's life forever.

"I'm aware of that Sir, but Jack Bristow has his weakness, as does every American man."

Chevchenko, Valenkov and Probulov were watching her intently, waiting for her to carry on, but she remained silent.

She could see a spark of interest – or was it an evil glint- in Fyodor's eyes, as he prompted her: "And what would that be, my dear?"

The woman plastered one of her trademark smirk on her lips, interiorly swallowing the bile rising up her throat, before exposing her scheme to blackmail the infamous Agent Jonathan Donahue Bristow into giving them back the precious disk.

TBC


	2. Chapter 1: Surveillance

**Chapter 1: Surveillance**

Finally, the meeting was over. It took some time and a lot of explanations, but Irina managed to convince her superior she could get the disk back, and it seemed appealing enough that Chevchenko backed down of the idea of killing Jack. The fact the CIA would cause them even more damage if they were to kill Bristow was a good argument too: The CIA, in its kindness, and despite the ruthlessness of its "concurrent", always used tranq darts instead of real bullets to neutralize enemies agents. They might no be as gentle if they came face to face with an agent from the organisation that killed one of their own.

The plan seemed simple enough, in its basic form, as she exposed it to Chevchenko and her fellow officers: they needed the disk that only Jack could procure, which he couldn't do if he was dead, and to obtain the disk, they needed Jack's cooperation, and for that, they needed a strong argument: his daughter, Sydney.

Fyodor gave her _carte blanche_, Valenkov and Probulov would accompany her to America. They would start by keeping watch on their target, who, as the daughter of a high-ranking officer of the CIA, would be protected. Learning her routine and the one of her surveillance team would help them determine the best moment to grab her. This was the most difficult part, to get her away from the US without leaving a trail. The whole mission would take a week, maybe more, there were a lot of things they couldn't assess from Russia. They couldn't wait too long either, because if the CIA deciphered the disk, it would be useless to carry on with the mission.

The three Russians left for the US the same day on a private airplane. They arrived at night and discreetly settled into a safe house in Los Angeles, just a few blocks away from where Sydney Bristow lived. They took advantage of the darkness outside to check out the neighbourhood, and possibly spot the CIA agents assigned to the girl.

The area was quiet, everyone seemed asleep as there were no lights coming from anywhere in the streets. It was almost one in the morning. The house hadn't changed a bit in twelve years. The front door was the same, made of strong wood, not the easiest way to enter the house. The garden was well kept, full of roses.

There were no cars in the driveway, and Irina knew Jack never parked in the garage, so she assumed he was not at home at the moment.

"It's a good thing. We don't need him to interfere. It will be easy if she's alone," noted Nikolai.

"Yes, but check out the black sedan parked in front of the next house, they are not fitting in. I see two men inside." Probulov was a talented agent, as was Nikolai, but in a different way. Aged of 49, he had seen lots of things, carried on hundreds of missions, and was a brilliant strategist. He would take care of everything related to Jack Bristow once they had Sydney. They were very much alike, maybe it explained why Irina liked to work with him so much.

"There is another CIA team behind the house," announced Irina, who had kept driving around the block while observing her surroundings. They were nearing the back of the house, after passing by another sedan in which sat two more men.

Again, no changes in the house, there were bushes here and there, some of them partly hiding from the street the window on the left of the door, which lead to the kitchen. Irina remembered when she had seen the house for the first time, almost twenty years ago, on a rainy Monday. She had feared the sun wouldn't come through the windows because of those bushes, but had been reassured when visiting the house a second time, in broad daylight. Jack and she had signed the contracts this day. Here too the door was reinforced, making it impossible to break in the house. Irina took note of that, as did her comrades: that would leave them only the window if they needed to get inside of the house.

Irina left the area as discreetly as she had come, without the CIA teams noticing anything suspicious about the blue SUV with tinted windows that had not even made a full turn around the block. The three agents smiled. Contrary to those stupid monkeys, they fitted perfectly into this neighbourhood, where the majority of the residents drove a SUV.

Sunday was a sunny day, it was now 11 in the morning and some of Sydney's neighbours were washing their cars while others were mowing their lawn. Valenkov and Irina sat in their car, almost right under the CIA's nose, and watched as their target made her way toward her neighbour's house. She stopped in the front yard, saying hello to a blond woman who was watching over her three kids. They talked for a while and then Sydney took of running towards the park. The surveillance equipment stuffed in the car allowed the SVR's agents to listen to the conversation, in which the blond woman thanked the brunette for baby sitting, adding that her kids adored Sydney ; thus causing a smile to creep over Irina's lips. Her daughter had really turned into a fine young woman, perfect on all sides. In full jogger attire, complete with running shoes, her walkman's earphones now firmly plucked in her ears, Syd put on her sunglasses and enjoyed her ride.

"She's beautiful." Thought Irina. She couldn't take her eyes off of her daughter. It was the first time she was seeing her in ten years. Even from that distance, the mother in her recognized her the second she came out of the house. Her long brown hair held in a ponytail, her sparkling brown eyes before she covered them with sunglasses… She was amazing, Irina was captivated.

- "And here I thought all American girls were fat and only into alcohol and junk food! This girl is hot!" Her partner declared, seemingly amused, and oblivious to her.

Irina inwardly growled, she knew of her partner's multiple flings, and how he treated women. The fact that he was hitting on her daughter was not pleasant, but she couldn't really say "stay away from my child you pig", so she just clinically observed: "She's quite muscular, she must exercise a lot, it could cause us trouble, she could fight back harder than we expected."

The man laughed, scornful. "So what? We're SVR agents, she's merely a girl, a kid even. If you don't feel up to it, I can take her down anytime I want, she won't be a problem to me."

Irina glared at him, glared at him, and he swallowed. He knew he had better not screw up the mission, and fooling around with the woman was not a good idea. She was older than he was and he heard that she was one tough cookie and a damn good agent. Some even said she was a match for that American agent, Jack Bristow.

They couldn't follow the girl because the men parked in the car got out, following her as best as they could. They were trained agents but the nice thing with surveillance is that you often get to just seat and watch. That's when the Russians agents noticed that both were wearing jogging outfits.

"It must be a habit of hers if the agents came prepared. It could give us an opportunity." Noticed Nikolai.

"I don't know… it's good for us but it depends on where she goes. There are too many people on the streets or in the park, we can't grab her in broad daylight."

"Yeah, you're right, but look, there is no one watching the house anymore. Anybody can go inside unnoticed."

"Except by the neighbours" snapped Irina. Valenkov was a good agent, he was young, strong, successful, but he had not Irina's experience, least of all with this kind of mission. He tend to be too impatient, and she didn't like that.

"They might not always be there. It's safe to assume that the agents follow her everywhere she goes, and there's no one watching the house meanwhile.

"We'll see."

They remained quiet until their target returned. She was not alone, a young blond man was jogging alongside her. They were followed by the two CIA puppets and arriving fast.

"We need more information on this man and on the agents who are watching the house, on their shifts."

"I'm on it." Nikolai started tipping on his laptop, with which their surveillance equipment was linked. He took a photo of each of the three men, trying to discover as much as possible on them, so he could give a complete report to his current boss, Irina Derevko.

"She's barely sweating, and yet she ran for one hour…" quietly observed Irina, watching her flesh and blood invite the blond man into her house.

"Yep, we'd better not let her escape once we get her, she might just leave us behind." Agreed her colleague, in an admiring tone that didn't suit him at all.

Monday at 6h00 sharp, the blue SUV was parked at a different post, they couldn't risk to attract too much attention. They also had switched the license plates, just in case. The day before, they managed to find out the identity of 8 agents assigned to Sydney. They also discovered the identity of the jogger, a Mr Will Tippin, apparently a friend from school.

At 7h15, they watched as the garage door opened, allowing a burgundy Ford SUV to pull out on the street. The car sped down the road, the sedan and the other SUV following closely.

"She's driving! How old is she!" Valenkov was surprised.

- "Seventeen, the driving age in this state is sixteen," flatly replied Irina. Inside, she was proud, her daughter seemed to be doing great on her own. But at the same time, she felt sad. Who had taught her little girl how to drive? Who had paid for the car, for her studies. Who told her about sex? Did she even have to endure it? Irina, her mother, didn't get to see or do all those things with her, she didn't get to see her grow up, but maybe she could change that, make it up to Sydney. Soon, she promised herself, soon. At least for now, she was able to watch her and learn a little about her. It had been twelve years without even a tiny bit of information on the whereabouts or the situation of her only child. It was hell, but she got used to it. Now that she had her almost right in front of her, she couldn't imagine going back to Russia without at least talking to her.

The 'cortege' ended up at UCLA, a place Irina thought she would never get to see again. She hadn't come back to America once since her extraction, ten years ago. Until this day, she had always managed to avoid being sent on a mission to the US. But she certainly didn't regret taking that one! Being there, watching her daughter park in the student parking lot, seeing hordes of students making their way to their classes or the library… she suddenly felt homesick. She hadn't noticed before that she missed America, Los Angeles, and especially UCLA, where she taught for several years during her 'stay'.

"The agents aren't following her further than the parking lot and I don't think they have someone on the inside watching out for her."

Irina snapped out of her rather depressive train of thoughts and focused on the task ahead.

"Probably not, but then again, it's too crowded."

"Why don't we just shoot the agents in the front of the house with a silencer, go in, knock her out and get the hell out of this crazy country!" Nikolai was getting irritated, restless.

"The later they realise she's gone, the later they'll start looking for us, giving us a precious advance. That's why we have to move in without them suspecting a thing. Plus, we can't afford to have them see us, because they would be able to describe us when interrogated."

"So what do you suggest we do? If we can't capture her here or in her house, I don't see what we can do!"

"Be patient and watch until we get an opportunity". She was growing rather annoyed of the little brat; she didn't like it when subordinates questioned her. It was an obvious sign of mistrust, the first step of betrayal. She scolded herself, she should have known better, Fyodor probably asked him to keep an eye on her, because he believed her to be 'emotionally involved'.

Was she?

TBC


	3. Chapter 2: Planning

COLLATERAL DAMAGE 

Eyghon

**Author's notes: **You wanted to know more about Jack, your wish is my command. I hadn't planned on saying much about him, and a review made me realise that some insight in their relationship was indispensable for the rest of the story, so thanks to whoever asked. Sorry for "the big grey box", I didn't know how to call it, hell, I don't even know the word in French! Please hit the reply/review button if you liked the story, you have no idea how much it means to me.

Chapter 2: Planning 

The surveillance went on for the rest of the week without Jack making any appearance, and yet the agents knew for a fact that Jack lived here with Sydney. They observed the young woman's routine from sunrise till the lights went out in the house. Daily reports were made to Chevchenko, who in his turn informed them of his progresses in monitoring the CIA's activities around the disk. They were not even close to figure out the code, so Irina and Nikolai had all the time they needed. The Russians noticed that the CIA agents never followed their target in where she was going, they just parked near enough to have her car in sight, or followed her in the streets, but never inside buildings.

Sydney left for the university everyday around 7h15 to come back before 17h00, she sometimes went to the library, the cafeteria, the running track, the swimming pool… She had no classes on Wednesday all day and on Friday afternoon, and used the time off to do nothing dealing with sports or studies: She would do some shopping at the local supermarket, hang out with her friends or just sleep in.

On Wednesday, both agents had observed as Sydney parked in front of a house a couple of blocks away from her own. A black woman was doing some gardening. She had gotten up and pulled her muddy gloves off to greet the younger girl.

"Sydney!"

"Hi Diane!"

Irina had felt a pang of jealousy at the sight of the two women hugging tightly, smiling broadly at each other. She had then wondered if that "Diane" had replaced her as a mother to Sydney. The thought alone had made her dizzy, from hurting or rage, maybe both.

"I'm here to get Francie, we're going to do some shopping"

"She'll be out in a minute, she's still getting ready."

They had talked about random things for a few minutes until a young black girl, presumably "Francie", had come out of the house. Both teenagers had hopped in the car, happily chatting and laughing. Thirty minutes later, they had pulled into the mall parking lot, to get back out a few hours later and head home.

Irina and Nikolai had noticed that the CIA so-called "agents" hadn't even bothered to enter the underground parking garage, but instead had parked on the other side of the street, meters away from the entrance. More surprising was that they both had gotten out of their car to eat a hot dog at a snack stand at the corner of the street, totally out of sight of the garage's exit. She could hear them talk through the high tech micro dissimulated in the antenna on the roof of her car.

"What's with girls and shopping! She's been there last week already, and the week before that!" Groaned the older agent, a grey haired fat man.

'Probably somehow incapacitated for field duty, or just a bad element', thought Irina. His –very young- companion, most likely put there to take surveillance lessons, replied:

"I had this girlfriend a couple of years ago, she used to go to that mall like two times a week, but the practically never bought anything. I asked her about it, she said it was a girl thing, that I couldn't understand. I guess they're just doing some window shopping, you know, just looking at pretty stuff, wishing they could afford them."

The older man gave a huff of disdain, munching his hot dog like there were no tomorrow.

Derevko was fuming inside, they were supposed to protect her daughter against people like her… actually not quite like her, because she would never hurt her baby girl, but that's not the point. The point is, those two incompetent morons were no protectors, what if someone tried to attack Sydney, like an enemy organisation, or even a simple thief or a… whatever scum was walking the streets of this big city! The thought chilled her to the bone. Nikolai too, had noticed the two men sloppiness, but hadn't reached the same conclusions as her.

"That's the perfect setting, a dark underground parking garage, with the right timing no one will see us take her, and the agents won't notice anything for hours." Nikolai was excited, surveillance definitely wasn't his thing, and it was so boring! He was more a man of action than a man of patience. Hell, he hadn't climbed on the top of a ladder so fast from sitting on a car and watching some random girl living her life! He was getting sick of waiting, but his partner had been right, an opportunity had finally arisen, and he intended to take it.

"Yes, indeed." Irina was not as thrilled as was Nikolai, of course, it's the opening they had been waiting since the beginning, she had to go through with it, the game was in motion, there was no backing down now. At least, she had a few days to ready herself to finally meet her daughter.

"You heard them, she'll probably come back next Wednesday. We should go in now, try to see where she's parked, with a little luck, she parks at the same level each time. We can check out the place, see if there are any cameras that we'll need to disable."

"What about the other girl, she will probably accompany Sydney again."

"Sydney?" questioned her companion. Irina stared at him blankly, then understood: She had slipped, she had called their target 'Sydney'. They never called her that, only referring to her as 'the Bristow girl' or 'the kid'. She had just made a huge tactical mistake. Now, Valenkov must suspect that something was amiss with her, and yet, he didn't say anything.

"We'll just have to eliminate her and hide the body."

"It's little harsh, we don't need to go to that extreme. I'll take care of her, you'll take care of… the other.

"As you wish." He put the car in gear and they entered the underground parking garage, easily spotting the different cameras and more importantly, the "big grey box" that they'd have to hack into to disable the whole security system.

On Saturday night, the two Russians agents were watching the Bristow's house, they had decided to keep up their surveillance to get a back up plan in case things didn't go as planned in the mall the next Wednesday.

Several cars had arrived during the last hour. It seemed that there was a party, it would explain the extensive shopping that Sydney had done at the supermarket earlier. Of course, Irina knew what the occasion was, but she wasn't about to tell that to her partner.

The music could be heard from the street, but no neighbours seemed to mind, as no Police car had came by. 'Sydney must be a good neighbour if they tolerate that', thought Irina, remembering the blond haired woman whom Sydney did babysitting for.

She wished she could be there, inside, partying with her little girl, now officially a woman. Though she doubted Sydney would have ever allowed her to mix with her friends, there was nothing more embarrassing than a parent sticking around at a party. She wondered how in hell her daughter had managed to convince Jack to let her throw a party, but as he hadn't shown up for almost a week now, she guessed the girl didn't ask, mainly for the lack of someone to ask to. The CIA agent was probably in a deep undercover mission of some sort, on the other end of the world, unreachable, indefinitely.

It was incredible, in just a few days, she had learned so much about her daughter's life… she seemed so happy, so perfect… Irina felt somewhat guilty, she was plotting with the SVR to shatter that perfection, that happiness that her baby had managed to find…

A few hours after the first car had arrived, the house emptied, their occupants all going in the street, beer bottles and various glasses of stronger alcohol in hand. Someone had brought a few fireworks, the kind that you can detonate yourself and that still look pretty amazing. Sydney was among the drunks soon-to-be-adults, laughing as the colourful lights erupted in the sky, blissfully unaware of what was to come.

The next morning, around 10, the house was still quiet, everybody was probably still recuperating from the party, or more precisely, from the alcohol abuse. A few cars remained, some guests had taken taxis, some others, Sydney's closest friends most likely, had crashed in the living room. They could be seen through the open curtains of the room.

The Russians had stayed there all night, as had the CIA agents, though they had changed shifts around 6.

A black Sedan pulled up into the driveway, the almighty Jack Bristow had returned.

"The old man is going to have a stroke when he comes in here!" laughed Nikolai.

"He might get angry." Irina's responses were always flat, unemotional, as if she was uninterested, but it was just a cover. She was acting her cold usual self when in the inside, she was fearful. Yes, fearful, for her daughter. Jack would be so mad, he would probably ground the poor thing for weeks if not months. He had never been violent, not with Laura, and certainly not with Sydney, but still, his yelling skills were quite scary sometimes, there was no way to get used to it.

As predicted, soon after he had come in, yelling could be heard, coming from the upper floor of the house. Irina easily identified Jack and Sydney's voices. A few minutes later, Francie, Will and two other young men literally ran out of the house, amazing thing considering the amount of alcohol they had had only a few hours prior. They got to their respective cars, Will offering a ride to Francie, as she was the only one without wheels.

After a while, Sydney followed, an angry Jack on her heels, both exposing themselves to the agent's ears.

"Where do you think you are going!"

"I need some fresh air."

"You are going to clean up this mess!"

"Just give me a minute okay…"

"What is wrong with you! I can't leave you a couple of days by yourself without you throwing a party without permission! You are drunk, and so are your friends, because of you! You're irresponsible!"

"Yes we drank a little, so what! No one drove drunk, that's why there are crappy cars left in the street! That's why Fran, Will, Charlie and Danny stayed overnight! Why do you always have to make such a big deal out of things!"

"Yes, let's talk about those boys sleeping with you…"

"For God's sake, they slept in the living room, meters away from me! What, did you want me to tell them to drive back to their place, drunk! I get it, everything I do is screwing up things with you, is that it?"

"Don't bring that back to yourself, you're seventeen, you're under my responsibility, you planned a party behind my back, involving strong alcohol no less!"

"First, there was no one to ask too, you left me almost two weeks ago without saying much of a goodbye, and you didn't even call once! How was I supposed to contact you! Second, I'll let you know that I'm not seventeen! I'm eighteen! It was my birthday yesterday, that's why we had the party!"

Jack stared at her, open mouthed, Sydney looking back at him with fury, until she came to a realisation.

"You didn't even know, did you?" Her voice was barely above a whisper, tears were flowing from her puffy red eyes, her anger replaced by deep sorrow. Her own father had forgotten about her birthday, her eighteenth birthday for crying out loud! Irina's heart sank. She knew what a special day it was.

"Sydney."

"Mrs Newman knew." She said accusingly, pointing a trembling finger towards the blond woman's house. "She brought me a cake with eighteen candles, and a CD that I actually like, wrapped in a shiny paper, with a bow..."

"I…"

"I could have understood that you that you weren't there, that you hadn't bought me anything, even that you hadn't called or written, because it would have been no different from the last twelve years… But you didn't even remember." She was desperately trying not to choke on her words. "All those years, it's been my only comfort, to somehow know that you knew… But yesterday, it was my eighteenth birthday, the most important day of my life until today, the only thing you had to remember about me for a whole year… but you managed to screw that up... like you do everything else when it comes to me." Her tone had taken a lower, deeper tone, her eyes cold as ice.

"Sydney."

"How dare you? How dare you giving me lessons, barging in the house, yelling about a couple of dishes, when you don't even remember your only daughter's birthday! I hate you."

At that moment, Jack felt pain, like he had never felt before. Not when he had seen his comrades die before him, not when he had been tortured for days… not even when he had learned of Laura's betrayal. It was the first time that Sydney pronounced those dreaded words. He knew it would come, someday, he deserved it, but he would have never imagined that he would feel such pain.

Every teenagers fight with their parents, and say things that they don't think, that they regret. However, he knew, he knew Sydney didn't regret a word of what she had said, and he knew she had spoken the truth. And that hurt. He could take physical and psychological abuse, he was trained for that. But nothing had prepared him to feel what he was feeling.

Without giving him time to utter another lame "Sydney", she ran back into the house, leaving him there, paralysed, his face white as a sheet.

The argument wasn't over, the two –make it five- stunned agents watching in utter surprise as the young brunette came back in the driveway, a baseball bat in hand. Jack didn't move a muscle, mesmerised by the scene unfolding in front of him, or still lost in his thoughts.

Approaching the Sedan, Sydney drove the bat right into the driver's window, and leant inside, reaching for the hand brake that she finally released.

Without a word, she opened the garage door with her set of keys that she had picked up with the bat. She got in her car, threw the bat in the backseat and started her engine. She slowly pushed Jack's car out of her way in the street, careful not to push to hard so the car wouldn't bump into the cars parked on the other side of the street. Her SUV was far more powerful and bigger than Jack's long Sedan, soon she was free to go.

Jack was left standing outside, but he wasn't looking "ill" anymore, just… cold. It seemed that he had recovered from his previous "weakness", as he went back inside the house as if nothing had happened.

The CIA agents didn't go after Sydney right away, still stunned by what had just happened. They weren't the only ones. Irina was horrified, she could feel the bile rise to her throat. She felt so disgusted by her husband, and mortified beyond words by the violence of the confrontation between her husband and daughter. 'When and how had they become so estranged from each other!'

She feared she knew exactly the answer to that question.

TBC


	4. Chapter 3: First contact

COLLATERAL DAMAGE 

Eyghon

**Author's notes: **I hope this chapter is coherent, I changed so many parts so often… This is going to be longer than I expected, maybe 10 chapters, I'm very excited, I have so many ideas!

Chapter 3: First contact 

The following day of their arrival, on Monday night, after their first visit to the Bristow's house the three agents had set up a 'plan of escape'. They needed to get out of the United States as soon as they had the girl. The first step was to steal two get-away vehicles, an easy task that Nikolai managed just fine. He took a white van and a silver SUV, the latter being the only inconspicuous vehicle that could fit two –breathing- people in its trunk. He had driven them to an isolated warehouse "owned" by the SVR near the outskirts of LA. They would then come back with their hostage, ditch the van and take the SUV instead.

An agent would get rid of the van while they would be on their way to Nevada. Once there, they would switch vehicles again and drive to McCarran International Airport in Las Vegas where a private jet would be awaiting them. The CIA would check every American, Mexican and Canadian airport after having found nothing at LAX. Many jets were continuously flying in and out of LAS; the SVR's would be one of many, an untraceable way of leaving the country.

Irina had designed the plan with Probulov's help, who would take care of his business with Jack on his own. The plane in Las Vegas was courtesy of the SVR, and Nikolai and her would pilot it themselves, as it was not essential to involve professional pilots, even trusted by SVR. The flight would be untraceable to Russia, their final destination, but they would make a quick stopover in France and take another SVR jet, just to be safe. Once in Russia, they would hide their hostage in a random house, on loan from a SVR agent who didn't need it. Even if the CIA discovered that the Bristow girl was in SVR custody, they would start with checking known possible locations such as warehouses, maybe safe houses, but they would never think of an agent house. It would be impossible for them to check anyway, because even the organisation's other agents were not privy to those personal information.

Today Nikolai was driving the van, they were waiting for Sydney a few blocks away from the mall, parked in a street perpendicular to the one she would be on. They knew where she was coming from and where she was going, no need to take the risk to be seen by the CIA agents by following her from her house to the inside of the mall parking. Around 14h00, her burgundy SUV passed them, closely followed by a black Sedan. Valenkov pulled out of their parking spot, turned left and ran the intersection's orange light to not get left behind. They could see a head above the passenger seat, probably Francie, as expected. In the Sedan, Irina recognised the agents from last Wednesday, they had kept the same shifts all week long. Today they would probably go back to the snack stand.

On the way to the parking garage, Irina had readied herself to act like an agent. This mission was no different than the countless others she had lead. Nikolai and her were on their way to capture her innocent daughter… no, scratch that. Nikolai and her were on their way to capture an important target for the SVR's interests. This was not an innocent girl, this was not her daughter. This was a soon-to-be prisoner of the SVR.

She was doing that for her country. 'My country, what a joke!' She had ceased believing in that crap years ago, when the KGB, supposedly acting for the good of Russia, had forcefully pulled her out of her assignment in America. 'They made me give her up'. They had stolen her motherhood from her, they had kept her from seeing her baby girl grow up into what she was seeing today.

America had felt like home for years, home was where Sydney and Jack were. She was angry at her country for throwing her in hell when she had came back, but what would the United States have done with her if she had been caught? After all, today there was the "scandals" of Guantanamo Bay and Abu Grahib, who knew what the US government was hiding at the time? The fact that people "cared" about what happened to the Iraqis, Afghans and whoever else was in there didn't mean that anyone would have cared about Russians prisoners during or **after** the Cold War. Certainly they would have found a way to get back at her for "killing" their agents. Bunch of fools, if they knew! They could have left her to rot in there for years… Or maybe they wouldn't even have bothered with her and just sent her to the electric chair without other form of trial… But in this case, she wouldn't have what Russia was "giving" her today, the chance to see her daughter as a grown woman…

"We're almost there." Interrupted Nikolai.

Lost in her thoughts, Irina hadn't noticed that they were one block away from the parking garage. When they had come back from their first visit there, Nikolai had opened himself a back door in the mall security system so he could hack into it later.

She typed a few keys on Nikolai's laptop, instantly disabling the security cameras inside and outside the underground parking. They were nearing the access ramp, one car behind Sydney's. The CIA agents were getting out of their car, parked around the same spot as last week. 'Good boys'. Sydney directly went to level-2, and the SVR's agents followed, parking their van a few meters away from the exit ramp. They pulled their masks on, they were already wearing gloves so no prints would be left inside their car or anywhere else in this place.

Irina took a deep breath and tried to concentrate on the task ahead. As a SVR agent, it was her duty to bring their target in, by whatever means possible. There was no place for mistakes… or feelings.

Both agents walked stealthily between rows of cars, closing in on their target. Sydney had parked half way between the exit ramp and the elevator, Irina and Nikolai had a two minutes window to act.

They came from behind, Irina struck the black girl over the head with her gun, letting her collapse on the ground. She then picked up the car keys, which had escaped her daughter's grasp when Nikolai had grabbed her. For an instant, their eyes met, Sydney's full of terror and incomprehension, Irina's stone cold. Seeing the masked woman heading back to her fallen friend, Sydney struggled even more against her captor, screaming under the hand covering her mouth. Valenkov dragged her away from the brightly lit alley, towards a free spot next to a pillar, where he waited for Irina to come and give him a hand. They didn't need the girl to kick in cars while passing them, the littlest of shock could set off a shrilling alarm. He was tempted to use his taser to calm her down, but that would admit that she was giving him a hard time.

Irina didn't look back, simply picked up Francie and threw her over her shoulder as if she were a potato sack.

Sydney finally seemed to recall that she had teargas in her bag, her father had insisted that she carry one with her at all times, arguing that young women were easy targets for robbers in Los Angeles's streets. She didn't think it would ever come in handy, but she wasn't about to complain about having it right now.

Irina made her way back towards the burgundy SUV and dumped the body in the trunk, locking it and throwing the keys away. With the force of the blow, the girl wouldn't wake up for hours, and by the time she was rescued, the SVR agents would be long gone.

Sydney's hand finally closed on the tiny bottle, she closed her eyes and pressed the button, aiming the spray behind her, where she thought the man's eyes were. Miraculously it worked and he let go of her mouth, but was still holding her against him with the other.

"Let go damn it!" She tried to hit him, without much success, her only satisfaction being that he was still groaning from the pain in his eyes. The commotion had alerted his colleague, who was now hurrying towards them. Sydney had momentarily forgotten about the woman.

At that moment, the elevator's door opened, the woman barely had time to duck in the row of cars before the occupants could see her. She soon joined Nikolai and Sydney, who was frantically struggling against the man. Irina brusquely pressed her taser against Sydney's neck, causing her to instantly loosen her grip on Nikolai's arms, but she wasn't out yet. She felt defeated, she hadn't seen the woman coming, too busy struggling to notice her creeping behind the row of cars, out of sight of the newly arrived people. She was about to use the little strength she had left to try and scream, despite Nikolai's hand still covering her mouth, but the woman, seemingly reading her thoughts, pulled out her gun, training it on the people who had just walked out of the elevator: A woman and two children, a little boy and a little girl.

"You make a noise and they die." Murmured the woman, looking at her straight in the eye. She was not bluffing, Sydney knew. She resigned herself and quietly watched as the family-minus-a-father took off in a silver SUV parked a few cars from her own.

The woman grabbed her legs while Nikolai held her under the arms. They carried her to their van, the woman took the wheel while the man threw her in back, pinning her down on her stomach. She wouldn't keep still so he hit her in the ribs, causing her to cry out in pain.

Irina flinched as she heard her daughter's cries. She tightened her hold on the steering wheel, causing her knuckles to turn white.

Meanwhile, her colleague managed to tie his captive's hands behind her back, tightening the rope around her wrists. She was still gasping for air when he pulled a black cloth over her eyes.

"You stay down, you don't move." He ordered. "She's secured." He announced, pulling his mask off, while Irina did the same. They were now in the street going along the mall, the CIA agent's car was parked at the same spot, they hadn't notice anything and wouldn't for hours.

"How are your eyes?"

"Fine! That little btch…" He kicked the prostrate figure in the legs and she pulled herself into a foetal position.

"There's a bottle of water beside you, pour some into your eyes."

Irina glanced in the rear-view mirror, and wished she hadn't. Her heart sank at the sight of her sobbing daughter, huddled on the floor. 'This is my fault'. She had suggested the whole kidnapping idea, she had designed the plan almost all by herself, and she had known all along what it would entail. And all that trouble for what? To save a husband that she hadn't seen in years, who believed her to be dead? To save Sydney's father who didn't seem to be much of a father but was acting like a complete jerk? But wasn't she somewhat being selfish? Did Sydney want her father to be saved?

After a one-hour drive, they came near a warehouse, Irina went out to open the door and close it back when they were in. Except for Probulov, they were the only ones involved in this mission, they had no other help whatsoever, except for the 'valet-parking'. Chevchenko had made it clear that secrecy was essential, so the least people knew the better. Certainly, the CIA would go to all of their contacts, and no one would be able to tell them anything if no information was leaked. Derevko, Probulov and Valenkov were Chevchenko's best agents, and the four of them knew they could trust each other, besides Irina's blood relation to their hostage, that is. But she had been the one to come up with the plan so her boss had no reason to doubt her loyalty.

She got out of the van and opened the door, allowing Nikolai and Sydney to get out.

Facing her daughter after ten years of emptiness, being at a reaching distance of her was wonderful. But seeing her hunched posture, her quivering form, hearing her erratic breathing… Irina felt pain.

"Are you coming?" Nikolai was waiting for them near the SUV.

She snapped out of her thoughts and marched Sydney towards his position. She sat her on the edge of the trunk and pulled her sleeve up, accepting the syringe Nikolai was ending her, along with a vial of clear liquid.

"What are you doing?" Asked Sydney, scared even though she couldn't see someone was able to stick a needle into her.

"Relax, I'm just going to inject you a mild sedative…"

"No! Please no! I hate needles! I'll behave I swear…"

"Why do you even bother Irina, just do it and let's get going." Growled the man, his annoyance growing.

Glaring at the young man, she swiftly took hold of her daughter's arm and injected her with the syringe's content.

"Please, don't…" She gasped as she felt the prick of the needle on her arm. Tears rolled from behind the blindfold down to her cheeks. She felt herself go limp, strong arms catching her before she could hit her head.

"We have a long way ahead of us, it's better if you are asleep." Said Irina quietly, sounding like she was apologizing, but not sure if Sydney could still hear her. She felt sorry for the girl, she remembered how upset she would get when she was little and she had to be vaccinated. She would sulk all day and get angry at her mother for making her go to the doctor, not knowing that the pain from the shot hurt her mother as much as it did her.

Her Russian accent was showing strongly, has been since she had gotten out of Kashmir, ten years ago. Now, there was no way that even her own daughter would ever recognise her, but it wasn't because of the accent alone. No, in those twelve years of absence, two of which she had spent in "re-education", she had changed, both physically and emotionally. She would never be the same again, she had known the moment her car had plunged into the cold water that fateful night.

Irina gently laid Sydney's now unconscious form in the back of the trunk, and climbed in after her.

The agents wanted to travel as discreetly as possible, so they changed vehicles and configurations after each major step. A couple had entered the parking garage in a white van, a woman had went out and would drive to the warehouse, a man would drive to Nevada in a silver SUV, a couple would drive to Las Vegas's Airport in yet another car. There was no way to connect them together, to follow them to their final destination.

"Here is your earpiece." Nikolai and Irina would be able to communicate in case of necessity.

"Don't forget. Don't drive too fast. We don't need to be pulled over by the police."

"Make sure the girl stays out and let me take care of my business." Replied Nikolai harshly. The woman didn't mention that she had to help him subdue Sydney and that he had just commented on her methods a minute ago.

He put in a row of suitcases after her and covered everything with a blanket, completely hiding the two women from sight.

Several hours after the silver SUV had left the premises, a young man in his twenties entered the deserted warehouse and left with the van. He drove for a good hour to "Joe's breaker's yard" after having cleaned it up. He parked it in a row of other white vans, nobody would notice it. The CIA wouldn't find it for days if not weeks.

Halfway to Nevada, as she was still lying into complete darkness, only inches away from her unconscious daughter, Irina wondered: Putting her daughter through this hell…

Was it worth it?

TBC


	5. Chapter 4: Russia

**COLLATERAL DAMAGE**

Eyghon 

**Author's notes: **Most of what I write in terms of information (airports, weather, cities…) is real, and normally accurate: Google is a wonderful tool, and so is Encarta.

Chapter 4: Russia 

Irina and Nikolai were flying the plane over the Atlantic Ocean. In Las Vegas, they had switched places, she had driven to the McCarran Airport, following their plan without any problem.

They were in the air for several hours now and the tranquilliser Irina had given Sydney before their departure was starting to wear off. The older agent came inside the cabin to check on her daughter and sat down in front of her. She quietly observed as Sydney slowly emerged from unconsciousness. They had laid her down on a row of seats, keeping her tied and blindfolded so they wouldn't have to put their masks on.

A few minutes later, Irina made her presence known by helping Sydney to sit up.

"Wha…" She coughed and groaned, probably from a drug induced headache.

"Here, have some water, your throat won't remain sore long." Irina helped her to drink from a bottle.

"Thanks." Croaked Sydney once she was done. She felt so disoriented and scared. She had no idea where she was, why she was there or who she was with. "Where are we?" She dared ask, after a long silence.

"On a plane on our way to France."

"A plane? France?" She pondered the information for a moment, it was her first flight ever. Finally, she asked what she was dying to know. "What do you want with me?"

"It's complicated."

"I have a right to know! You people jump on me, you knock me out, you take me away from my country…" Her voice was rising, she didn't like not to know what happened to her, she hated not to feel in control. Her father was selling airplane parts, they lived modestly, and no one in her immediate family was wealthy enough to be asked for a ransom… What in hell did those people want with her?

"Calm down. Just know that if you behave and do exactly as we say, you'll get out of this alive and unharmed" calmly interrupted Irina.

"Unharmed… Oh my God, Francie!" In the van, she had been in full panic mode, and the pain wasn't helping her in thinking clearly. She had completely forgotten that the woman facing her had taken away her friend. God knew what she had done to her! "Where is Francie! Where is my friend! What did you do to her!" She was now frantic, they had killed her, oh God, it was all her fault!

"She'll be just fine, don't worry."

"I don't understand… I saw you take her… Where is she?"

"I hit her over the head, she will be unconscious for several more hours. The people that were supposed to watch over you will soon notice that you are missing and check your car, I left her in it. They will find her and return her to her home."

"The people that… What people!" She was completely confused, that woman was crazy, she wasn't making any sense.

"I told you, it's complicated, but you will have your answer soon enough."

She got up and fastened her daughter's seatbelt. She couldn't believe she just had a two-way conversation with her little girl, it felt so good despite the settings. "We're about to land, I have to go back in the cockpit. Stay there, don't make a noise, I'll come back to get you in a few minutes."

All the roller blinds were safely closed, making it impossible for outside observers to see the occupants of the aircraft. They safely landed in the _Aéroport International Marseille-Provence_ in _Marignane_. They had chosen this airport over _Roissy-Charles de Gaulles_ and _Orly_ because it was more discreet, what with not being located in the capital, Paris.

Just like they had done at the Las Vegas airport, they entered a hangar and only when its doors were closed they stepped out, thus preserving their 'privacy'.

Irina carried Sydney from one Lear jet to the other and proceeded to buckle her belt before making her way to the cockpit where she assisted Nikolai in the take off. A maintenance agent would probably come by later and close the hangar door, as he was paid to do.

Once they were well on their way, the woman came back to the cabin, only to see that her daughter was awake and struggling against her handcuffs.

"Too tight?"

The young girl would probably have jumped up in surprise if it weren't for her seatbelt.

"I…" She hadn't heard the other woman come back, now she was in trouble. Her ribs couldn't take more abuse, they must be broken or something because it hurt like hell to even breathe.

"Do not worry. I am not mad." She murmured in her ear, sticking yet another needle in her daughter's arm.

"God no…" She had time to wonder how the woman had approached her so closely without her noticing anything before falling in a dreamless sleep. Funny what drugs can do to you, she could have sworn she felt a soothing touch on her cheek.

Irina didn't take her eyes off of Sydney during the rest of the fly, until Nikolai called her back in the cockpit before they landed in _Pulkovo International Airpor_t, situated ten miles south of _Saint Petersburg_.

They were safe now that they were in Russia. Nobody would question them here, least of all the local authorities, as they were fellow 'government employees'. Of course their business was not very official and certainly not legal, but they still had the credentials to tell the Police to back off, if necessary.

They would both travel inside the car this time, leaving their prisoner alone in the trunk. There was no way the CIA could have followed their trail, but they didn't want to take any chance and switched cars right before leaving _Saint Petersburg_. The city was close enough to the International airport and quiet enough so that people asking questions would be noticed immediately.

The house they had been lent was fairly isolated without being lost in the middle of nowhere. It was situated along a road going up on a hill, between a forest and a clearing, dominating the town centre. The place was quite beautiful and very spacious, the kitchen had been stocked with food and the owner of the house had brought other supplies for their comfort.

The car they were driving actually belonged to the agent who was lending his house. He hadn't tell anybody that he was leaving town and the locals might find it strange that another car was parked in his driveway. Even half buried in the forest, they had to remain extra careful, the CIA had eyes everywhere, whether it was by technological means or informants, they would look everywhere.

TBC


	6. Chapter 5: Conscious

**COLLATERAL DAMAGE**

Eyghon 

**Author's notes: **Thank you so much for the reviews, you have no idea how happy it makes me! Plus it's really helpful in my writing, it gives me ideas from what you are expecting, what you want, and that counts a lot.

Chapter 5: Conscious 

When you wake up, sometimes you are disoriented, you wonder what day it is, where you are, at what time you have to get up, what things you had planned to do… For a few seconds, you are in utter oblivion.

That is how Sydney felt the next time she woke up, except that it lasted several minutes for her, thanks to the drugs she had been given earlier, but she didn't know that… yet. She couldn't figure out where she was, what day it was, and the most disturbing, what had happened before she went to sleep.

Her awareness grew by the minute though, she could feel her body now. Her hands were tied above her head and she was laying on a comfortable king sized bed. That set her off, her reflexes kicked in. She turned her head from side to side, trying to clear her mind from the fog that had settled in. Everything came back to her at that moment: The mall, Francie being hit over the head, the car ride… She was vaguely aware that she had awakened on a plane at some point. Her maiden flight, too bad she couldn't remember a thing about it.

The people who took her had a Russian accent, she was sure of it, it was unmistakable. She had heard on a documentary that some people kidnapped young girls and brought them to foreign country to make porn movies… and Russia was on the top of the list. She tried to rationalize, such things existed in America too, and she was 18 now, was that considerate "young" by those people? No, that couldn't be the reason… Still, she was lying on a bed, maybe there were cameras not two meters away from her and she wouldn't know… God she had to open her eyes, now! Why couldn't she!

Taking a deep breath, she tried to feel her environment, like they teach you in those yoga classes. She managed to get past the awful headache that was pummelling her skull and felt someone else in the room.

She was not a fearful girl, she didn't close her eyes while watching horror movies, and she didn't feel the need to turn on the lights wherever she was going in her house. Call her naïve but she didn't turn around when hearing steps behind her at night, she slept with the window opened if it was hot outside… But here, today, lying on that bed, at an unknown location, with total strangers, having no idea of what they wanted from her… She was helpless, literally at their mercy, and it scared her. She could feel her palms getting wet, her breathing shallow… So that was fear? Pure fear? That was what it felt like to be scared to death?

"I know you are awake."

She gasped and feebly jerked against her restraints, startled. "Argh." Her headache was back full force, not that it had left at all actually, it's just that now she could actually hear some kind of pounding "bam bam bam…" She swallowed hard.

She felt the figure move around the room to come back and sit back near the bed.

"Can you hear me?" inquired the mysterious voice, which Sydney couldn't even identify as a man's or a woman's. She groaned. After several attempts, she managed to get her eyelids to move up, finally! Her sight was blurry and the room was so dark, there were no lights on actually. She could vaguely make out three faces facing her, but it was weird. It must have been the woman or the guy from before, and his/her two clones… Man, it was worse than a hangover, she was completely fucked up!

"Wha… Where…" She felt the darkness claim her one more time and left herself drift off to another world.

"She still out?" Asked Nikolai, not concerned but rather annoyed.

"Yeah."

"It's been 24 hours, we should phone Probulov and give him the go ahead."

"No. I would prefer it if we waited for the drugs to completely wear off before taking any step forward with Agent Bristow."

Nikolai nodded distractedly and left the room.

Certain that Sydney was out for good and that Nikolai wouldn't come back, she laid down right beside her daughter. It's the closest she had ever been to her, save for carrying her earlier. She tentatively reached out and brushed a strand of hair behind her hear. She touched her face, so smooth, just like when she was a little girl. She wanted to observe her fully, see what she had created out of love so long ago. Her baby girl, so grown up!

Anyone from Irina's youth could tell both women were related. She looked like Irina at her age, and like her sister, Katya. There was no denying she was a Derevko. She had the brown eyes, brown hair, and high cheekbones… And from what she saw in Los Angeles, she had the family character: stubborn, strong, independent.

Ten minutes later, Sydney started to stir, so Irina carefully removed herself and quietly regained her place on the chair by the bed, as if she hadn't moved. She could tell the young girl was still having a hard time moving or focussing.

"Are you in pain?"

"Neck… hurts…" It seemed that the drug's magic was wearing off, she was feeling even more awful than before. Instead of being numb, every part of her body ached. It felt like she had been crushed by a truck or something, and her neck was on fire… She felt hot tears stream down her cheeks, she was free to think and feel again, but what an agonizing pain!

She still didn't get a good look at her captor but she was pretty sure that she recognized her voice, and her accent. It was the woman from before. She jerked away when something made contact with the stinging in her neck, making it worse.

"Easy, it's ice, just hold on a minute it will numb the area and I'll clean it up." Irina felt so bad for using that taser on her little girl. She knew from personal experience that it was rather painful, but so efficient. She had had to do something, otherwise they would have been seen, and who knows what Nikolai would have done to cover their tracks. It was better this way, she had done the right thing. Who was she kidding? The right thing? There was no right and no wrong in this world. It was not black and white. It was a matter of survival. No matter what she would have to do, Jack and Sydney would survive this. But at what price? How far would she have to go to insure her family's survival? It would be a high price, she knew, she had known the second the idea popped into her head… But what other choice did she have? What if? What if? What if? She had to stop tormenting herself with those questions, what is done is done, period.

Sydney was clenching her teeth, seething, she had had enough. She couldn't do anything, couldn't go anywhere, and couldn't even avoid that damn ice cube. She was trapped, and she had no clue why.

Her neck felt numb, her kidnapper was right. It must look so ugly, it felt like a burn and a scratch at the same time. She was dying to touch it but couldn't reach out with her handcuffed hands. Yup, those were handcuffs, no rope, she wouldn't be able to bite the knots like they do in those movies.

She cringed when she felt the sting of disinfectant on the ugly bruise, but it was not as bad as she thought it would have been, thanks to the ice. It still felt like a scratch and a burn, one above the other.

"There you go, all patched up," said the woman, putting on a white band-aid.

"Where are we?" She let her gaze wander around her, She was in what seemed to be a nice bedroom, spacious and comfy.

"Russia."

"My eyes… I can't… it's blurry…"

"Don't worry, it's only temporary, an after effect of the drugs I gave you. You should rest now." She got up and went for the door.

"No… Wait… I have questions…" mumbled Sydney, who was already dosing off.

"It can wait." With that, she was gone, and Sydney went limp from exhaustion before the door was even closed. Hopefully, next time she would wake up, she would feel better and finally get a good look at her captor.

On the other side of the door, Irina knew the confrontation was soon to come and inevitable, but she wasn't sure that she was ready for it.

Would she ever be?

TBC


	7. Chapter 6: Phone call

COLLATERAL DAMAGE Eyghon 

**Author's notes: **Chapter rated I-don't-know-what for violence, hope you'll like it though. To help you in the chronology (there are a few events that I wanted to put before or after other so it wouldn't be too linear and boring), the LA or the Moscow time are indicated with the GMT time. This chapter was mainly thought of out of boredom during a course of 'French administrative law'. I won't set foot ever again in this class, but don't worry, I don't need to take a shitty class to keep writing.

Chapter 6: Phone call 

_Los Angeles, 22h00 (6h00 GMT)_

Agent Jack Bristow was well known and respected by all in the Los Angeles offices of the CIA. He was a very successful agent, thus causing him to be targeted by other organisations wanting to see him dead. He had landed many blows on many terrorists or governmental agencies over the years. That's the reason why a surveillance team was assigned to his daughter.

Agent Williamson was the head of said team, and was running surveillance himself on dayshift. Agent Clark, a rookie whom he was charged to train, accompanied him. Both were responsible for the young woman's security, if something was to happen to her, heads would roll. And with Jack Bristow as a father, it might just happen, literally.

One of them had to inform him. He was on assignment overseas now, but it was official business so he was reachable by phone. Both agents had finished their reports for their superiors and it was concluded that they were in fault for not following their target inside of the mall. Now the harder part was to come.

Bristow answered at the first ring, Williamson cleared his throat and introduced himself as the agent responsible of his daughter security detail.

"What is it Agent Williamson?" Questioned the man, seemingly not the least worried.

"Sir, there is a problem with your daughter." He paused, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Sir, she's missing." The cat was out of the bag. He was expecting a torrent of injures or at least yelling, but there was just plain silence. "Sir?"

"What do you mean 'she's missing', could you be more specific Agent Williamson?" Still speaking in a professional tone.

"Well, she went to the mall with her friend and we waited for her outside the parking garage…"

"You didn't follow inside?" Interrupted Jack.

"No Sir, we estimated that there was no need to…"

"We will discuss your incompetence later, what happened after that?"

"She didn't come out. I mean, last week, she stayed there a couple of hours and we resumed the tailing as soon as we saw her car come out… but this week, it didn't."

"Did you find it, the car?"

"Yes, it was still parked inside, your daughter's friend was there. She was unconscious. Someone put her in the car's trunk. There was no sign of your daughter, Sir. I am sorry."

"What did the girl tell you?"

"We didn't get a chance to interrogate her yet, she's in the hospital, and she had a mild concussion…"

"Is she conscious?"

"Yes but…"

"Then go to the hospital, I want to know exactly what happened. Understood?"

"Yes Sir."

"Anything from the security cameras in the mall?"

"We recovered the bands but the feed had been cut as soon as her car entered the parking. The cameras inside and outside the garage were affected but not those of the mall itself. She never made it inside."

"At what time did she enter the parking?"

"Around 14h00, we checked the garage at 20h00."

"So whoever took her are 6 hours ahead of us. What else can you tell me?"

"Huh… nothing further I'm afraid, Sir."

"Go interrogate the witness as soon as you can. I want to see you and your colleague as soon as I come back." He hung up.

_Los Angeles, 12h00 the day after the abduction (20h00 GMT)_

Irina, Nikolai and their prisoner had arrived in Russia a couple of hours ago. It was time for Probulov to fulfil his duties consisting in letting Jack Bristow know that his daughter was alive and would remain so under a few conditions.

Of course, telling him that the SVR was responsible was suicide. First, it would be harder for him to track the kidnappers down if he didn't know who they worked for. Second, he would be less reluctant to hand over precious information on the SVR and the CIA to an agency that had no ties to the Russians than to the SVR itself.

Agent Jack Bristow was apparently a busy man, as it took Probulov some time to reach him at his agency. Despite its numerous connections, the SVR couldn't get a hold of any of his numbers, and there wasn't anything on his daughter's cell phone either.

Mikhail had to bring himself to phone the Los Angeles CIA offices, like anyone would do, and asked to speak to Agent Jack Bristow. He was told there was no one of this name but he expected it. He told the secretary that he had important information about the agent's current investigation. That did the trick, he was put on hold for a few minutes and transferred to another line, probably Bristow's cell phone. Finally, a male voice boomed into the receiver.

"Bristow."

"You are quite the legend Agent Bristow, I am flattered you took my call," started Probulov in a perfect American accent.

"I value my time very much. I was told you have information for me." Replied the man in a clipped tone.

"It is about a personal matter, I wouldn't want to involve your agency more than it already is."

"I am on a secured line, we are alone. Go ahead."

"I suppose your daughter's surveillance team informed you that they misplaced their target."

No reaction on the other side of the line.

"From now on, you will obey any orders I might give you, even if it goes against your government, your agency or your principles."

"I am not interested in working for you." With that, he hung up.

Probulov was not pleased. The Americans were so predictable and arrogant! Bristow thought Probulov would call back, begging for attention, but he wouldn't. Mikhail was as good as Bristow at these mind games. Probulov would give him a lesson, he had to strike and strike hard.

Meanwhile, Jack's plane was approaching LAX. He would be at the CIA headquarters before 13h00.

When Williamson and Clark had visited Francie Calfo at Mercy Hospital earlier this day, she could only tell them that someone coming from behind had hit her over the head. She knew nothing about their height, their number, their sex, and let alone give a description to a sketch artist. Sydney was walking beside her towards the elevator and then… nothing. She didn't even hear steps behind her nor did she notice anything unusual.

The agents left, disappointed, and apprehensive about the meeting with Agent Bristow that was to take place at their return.

_Los Angeles, 13h00 (21h00 GMT)_

One hour after his conversation with Agent Bristow, Probulov's plan was all set. Still in the safety of his rented apartment in LA, he reached for his second cell phone and dialed Valenkov's number.

"Yes?"

"Bristow is not cooperating, he needs a little incentive."

"I see. What do you suggest?"

Probulov could tell the young man was smiling, he didn't like the Bristow girl, that's for sure! When he had called earlier, to tell him that it was okay to go to Bristow Senior, he had made it clear that he was not happy to baby-sit.

"We can't afford to let to much time pass, I want to impress that arrogant man, so he won't think twice before carrying out my orders."

"I have an idea. I'll get started right away, Sir."

"Good, surprise me Agent Valenkov, and do not involve your partner just yet."

_Peterhof, two days after the abduction, 9h00 (6h00 GMT)_

Nikolai had spent the night arranging the basement so it wouldn't be recognizable as such. He had cleared the wall facing the garage door, now it just looked like any warehouse wall, grey and dirty. He had moved the gas cylinders used in the kitchen and the bottles of mineral water away.

He had climbed on a ladder and made a hole on the ceiling. Some dust fell on his Armani shirt but it was worth it. He was going to make that American btch pay for humiliating him in front of his **older** superior, Irina Derevko, who had no trouble overpowering her. He could still feel the sting from the teargas in his right eye. He screwed a hook in the hole and, ensured that it would hold, he came back down. He set up his laptop on the stool and hooked it up to the camcorder he had found in the living room's cupboard.

When everything was ready, he found Irina and told her that she was to report to Chevchenko in person, in Moscow. She was a little surprised at first, and reluctant, but Nikolai was convincing enough. Plus, he had Fyodor's support, who had been the one to suggest that Irina was not present when the "demonstration" was to take place.

"Why does he want to see me? I thought we agreed on not moving around unless absolutely necessary."

"There is no risk, the CIA has no clues as to what happened, least of all our involvement. I believe Chevchenko wants to discuss several issues with you, not necessarily related to this mission."

"Alright, I'll leave right away." Agreed Irina. It was not unusual for a Russian agent to be pulled out of the field to attend a meeting. There could be new orders about the mission or new development about the disk that were too sensitive to talk about on the phone or on the Internet. The bloody CIA had access to everything, but they never managed to bug the SVR main offices in Moscow. It was the safest place on Earth to talk.

Irina glanced at Sydney who was still out, she hoped she could trust Nikolai not to do anything foolish. She knew of his taste for young women and Sydney had really irritated him… but usually he was very professional so she shouldn't have any reason to worry. And yet, she couldn't help but ask:

"Will you be okay by yourself?"

"Yes Agent Derevko." Nikolai was grinning inside, but he was not forgetting that the woman, even if under Chevchenko's orders, was his superior. And he wouldn't want to arise her suspicions now, would he? He had noticed that his partner seemed to have a strange attachment to their hostage. Yes, they had been ordered not to leave the girl alone, they couldn't take any chance, so it was normal that Irina had spent the night by her side. It's the band aid gave her away. Usually, she couldn't care less about a prisoner's health, but with the girl, she was… human.

Irina took the 10h10 flight from Pulkovo Airport in Saint Petersburg and arrived in Moscow at the Sheremetyevo Airport at 11h20. The cities were 800 kilometres apart, only 1h10 away by plane. Hopefully she would be able to catch the 13h00 flight in Moscow and make it back to Peterhof by 15h00.

When she came back around 15h00, the house was eerily quiet, not the quiet "nobody talks", just… quiet. She checked Sydney's room but it was empty, and so was the whole house actually. She first thought that her partner had double-crossed her and that Chevchenko desire to see her had been a decoy to take her daughter away from her. Rationalising, she decided to check the basement. Nothing could have prepared her for the sight that was awaiting her when she walked in.

Moscow, earlier, 12h00 (9h00 GMT) 

Her meeting with Chevchenko had been rather uneventful and there were actually no good reason for it to take place. The CIA was still not getting anywhere with the disk, they had no clue of the SVR's involvement in Agent Bristow's daughter… nothing that justified a meeting, thus reinforcing her feeling that she was missing something, something big. When her superior insisted on her staying near by for the day in case new intel came in, she knew for sure that something was amiss. She told him that she needed to exercise and that he could find her in the gym area. He let it go without a second thought. This man took his agents trust and loyalty for granted when he shouldn't. He was so sure that no one would ever dare to disobey him. The Americans and the Russians had a lot more in common than what they acknowledged.

She left the offices building with a bunch of other employees and went directly to the airport where she booked a return flight with one of the many aliases that her agency didn't know about.

_Peterhof, 15h00 (12h00 GMT)_

Sydney was hanging by the wrists to a steel hook embedded in the ceiling. Her clothes were torn and dirty, her face bloody. There was a puddle of mingled pee, vomit, blood and other liquids at her feet.

Nikolai was seated a few meters away, typing on his computer. He turned around when he heard her approach. She couldn't hide the shocked look on her face, the closer she was getting to Sydney, the more cuts and bruises she could see on her tear-stained face.

She brushed a strand of hair off of her daughter's face, trying to assess the damages. The girl whimpered in pain and opened her eyes; Irina looked away, half in shame, half to make sure that Nikolai wasn't paying attention to them.

"What happened?" Irina managed to utter, while stepping away from Sydney, as if disinterested by her. She took a sit beside Nikolai, who was apparently editing the video of what had happened during her absence.

"Probulov initiated contact when I called him but Bristow didn't take the bait."

"What do you mean?" Irina couldn't believe he would refuse the deal and knowingly endanger his daughter's life. His patriotism couldn't be stronger than his love for his daughter!

"He didn't give me details, he just said we needed to give the man a lesson, that it was the only way to get to him. The bastard knew what we would do if he refused to cooperate, and yet he still refused to listen."

"Did Mikhail try to call back?" Irina couldn't believe that Jack had passed on the opportunity to negotiate the release of his daughter. She never doubted, not one second, that his patriotism would be stronger than his love for his daughter. She screwed up. Since the beginning, she made assumptions. Her whole plan was based on suppositions and now those mistakes were come back to bite her in the ass.

She had just been proven wrong, but at what price? She glanced once more at the screen and felt sick. She had assumed that her team wouldn't do anything rash behind her back. She could have prevented that, she was a good agent and a good strategist. She should have planned harder longer… She should have considered the possibility of a backstabbing from the SVR. After all, it was legitimate, she was emotionally involved, she couldn't deny it, the agency knew it, and her boss and her partner knew it. Yes, her superior and her own partner tricked her. She saw it coming, but chose to ignore her suspicions.

"No. Bristow wanted to play hard to get, we couldn't, and still can't, afford to play cat and mouse, we're in a tight schedule here."

"I know of our situation Nikolai." Replied sharply Irina, irritated by the disrespect pouring from Valenkov's words.

"Yes, my apologies. Let's just hope that this video will be enough incentive for Bristow to move his fat ass." Concluded Nikolai, resuming his activity.

"Was it necessary to go to such lengths? She is of no use to us if she is dead." She was not happy with his actions but couldn't really say so. She was trying to cover herself but they both knew what were her true feelings.

"The man is an agent, so Probulov wanted to give him a real show, not just the classical call where the hostage screams in the phone for help. It wouldn't have been enough with him, and it's so old fashioned. No, I suggested to Probulov that we take the whole thing on camera so that Bristow can see it."

She had felt like it has been a lesson directed at her more than at Jack. Her impression was confirmed when Nikolai leaned over her and murmured:

"Stop thinking like a mother and start acting as an agent, Agent Derevko."

Irina knew she had to act cold, like she didn't care. She should just walk away like she would do with any other prisoner, because after all, that's what Sydney was, nothing more, nothing less. Not a clueless innocent girl, not her daughter… But seeing her like that, bloody, battered, barely conscious, Irina felt nauseous. Guilty. She was guilty, it was her fault that her baby girl was in this hellhole of a country in the first place. She had brought up the idea in the first place. What would have happened had she not talked to her superior that day in Moscow? Would Jack really be dead? Not for the first time, she doubted of the validity of her plan. She couldn't ignore her daughter's pain any longer, she had to do something. Her "cover" seemed blown anyway. Her partners and superior had seen right through her. What more did she have to lose? Still, she'd better be prudent.

She got up and approached Sydney, whose state seemed to have worsened. Carefully, she freed Sydney from her standing position and helped her to stand by holding her up against her. She felt like a dead weight, she was shivering, sweaty and very pale.

"I'd better take care of her, she's in some sort of shock." She clinically observed as if bored, when she actually not care anymore if Nikolai believed her intentions to be motherly or purely professional. Her baby was not going well, she needed her, now.

She must have been hanging there for hours. The loss of blood, the infected wounds, the fever… any of these symptoms could cause her to go into shock any minute. The SVR agents had given her only the strict minimum required by the human body to survive: water. The girl had had no solid food for around 48 hours.

Sydney didn't feel good. She felt numb and he couldn't focus on anything. The pain was the worst, it was unbearable, her body was on fire and yet she felt so cold.

She missed her Dad. She thought about the last time she had seen him, with the bat incident. He had forgotten her birthday but he was still her father. Not the same as in her childhood's memories but still her father. Maybe she would never see him again, could never apologize or let him explain why he had forgotten about her birthday.

When she had came home after staying two days at Francie's, he was gone. The house was clean, a couple of hundred bucks were sitting on the kitchen counter for her grocery shopping, as usual. There were no note on the fridge, no message on the answering machine. He was just gone, most likely on another trip on the other side of the planet.

She started to feel her arms again, she was being carried in someone's arms. The person was holding her tightly, whispering to her in a soothing voice but she couldn't make out the words. She felt warmer now, she was in hot water. It felt good, so good…

Her wounds hurt from the soapy water but it was not as bad as when the man had poured his beer on her, earlier this day… or was it yesterday? She was so exhausted, she wished Francie could be here, she always knew how to comfort her. But Francie was in Los Angeles, and she was somewhere in Russia. She hoped her friend was alright.

Irina was doing something that she hadn't done in twelve years: she was taking care of her daughter. She had undressed her and was now bathing her and cleaning her wounds as best as she could. There was no foam and no yellow plastic duck in the tub with her anymore, no laughter could be heard in the room. Sydney was not a child anymore, she was a woman. A woman who had just gone through hell because of her, her own mother that she still thought deceased; and also because of a father who was too stubborn to quit a job that had already caused him so much pain.

Sydney didn't flinch once, she still seemed dazed. Irina was getting seriously worried, she was starting to think that Nikolai might have done more than beat up her daughter. The thought of his filthy hands on her little girl made her sick but she had to force herself to examine every possibility… She had been away for a long time, and if he had ran upstairs to get her as soon as she was out of the door… He had spent a total of 6 hours alone with her. He was angry with her for gassing him in the parking. When Irina had seen him clutch his puffy eyes, she had felt so proud of her daughter… Now she felt pain for her, because she had left her alone with a monster, without much of a second thought.

Peterhof, earlier today, 10h00 (7h00 GMT) 

Irina's plane was about to take off, it was safe to move on with his plan. Nikolai put his black ski mask on and started to slap Sydney until she opened her eyes.

"Come on you bitch, we are going to make a little home movie for your daddy!" Mocked the man while cuffing her hands in front of her.

She was on her feet before she knew it, the agent took hold of her arms and dragged her down the stairs. They entered what appeared to be the garage and he hooked her cuffed hands to the ceiling. Her feet barely touched the ground, it was rather painful to be stretched in this fashion.

She took in her surroundings. A camcorder was facing her, it was on. She reconsidered her earlier theory about porn movies.

"What is it? What are we doing here?"

"I told you, we are going to make a little film for your daddy dearest."

He was standing inches away from her, she could see the amusement in his eyes. He struck her, hard. Her head reeled back and she gasped, scared and in pain. He hit her again, and again, and again. She felt his fists pound on her face, on her ribs, on her stomach… but never hard enough to knock her out. The bastard knew what he was doing.

"What do you want from me!" She screamed, crying after the first few blows. He had stopped his assault to rub his bloody knuckles. At least he was hurting himself a little in the process, but that was no consolation.

"Do you know what your father does for a living?" He taunted, smiling sickingly.

"He sells freaking airplane parts, what, you think it makes him rich!"

"We are not after his money, but we want information from him."

"Information! That's what it's all about? Industrial espionage! Can't you do it like everybody else does, like spying or stealing things!"

"It is not about industrial espionage, little girl."

The woman in the plane had mentioned something about people watching over her, she said they would find Francie. She was so relieved to know that her friend would be find that she didn't insist more about those people. She needed to know, she needed to know why there were people "watching over" her. It must have something to do with her father because the man hitting her had asked her if she knew what he did for a living. Maybe he was some kind of mafia guy, he had upset the wrong guys, and now they were taking their revenge on her. Jack Bristow, a Mafioso? That sounded so ridiculous!

She couldn't ponder the question much longer or ask the man about it because he resumed his beating. She remembered that he had talked a lot while beating her, but she had been too busy screaming and puking to understand what he was saying. She couldn't evade him, hanging like a punching ball. He took out his rage on her, she could see a glimmer of joy in his eyes each time she screamed. By the end her throat was so raw that she could only moan in agony. The bastard was enjoying it. She vaguely wondered where the woman was, if she was watching somewhere from the darkness. Sometime during the beating, her torturer had gotten tired of bruising his hands on her skin and had switched to his belt.

_Los Angeles, 6h00 (14h00 GMT)_

Eighteen hours after the phone call conversation he had with the mysterious man, Jack received a fax in his office, displaying a simple IP address with the name "Sydney" above it. Feeling a cold sweat running through him, he opened his browser and typed in the address. A window popped open, asking for a password. He typed 'Sydney'. A video started playing…

Jack was trying to analyse what he had seen on the video. He had watched it without blinking an eye. He had a long experience in the torture domain, he had both been tormenter and victim, countless times. The fact that it was his 18 years old daughter displayed on the screen didn't affect him much. There was nothing he could do, nothing he could have done... But he knew that whoever had called him was responsible for that.

Now he just had to wait for the man to call him back, and set the terms of their arrangement. Surely, he wouldn't go to such lengths if he didn't want something in return for Sydney, something that apparently, he couldn't obtain any other way.

His cell phone rang several hours later. It was the same man as before.

"Did you enjoy the movie, Agent Bristow?"

"What do you want?" answered curtly Jack.

"Don't you have an idea?"

"No." That was the truth.

"Almost two weeks ago in Taipei, you acquired a disk from the SVR. I want it."

"I don't know what your are talking about."

"Do you want to see another production starring your precious child Agent Bristow?" threatened the man in a sweet voice. He was probably around Jack's age.

"Why would this disk be of any use to you?"

"That is none of your concern Agent Bristow. All you need to know is that I want it and everything your agency have on it, and I mean everything. Paperwork, copies, everything related to this disk must be in my possession within the next 48 hours."

"That is not going to happen."

"And why is that Agent Bristow?"

"I can not hand over such crucial information, it's treason."

"And what do you call letting your daughter to die? Negligence? I call that murder."

"Even if I wanted to help you, this disk contains very sensitive information, it's protected, there is no way I can get to it…"

"You managed to steal it from another Agency in Taipei, it should be easy to steal it now from your own agency. You have 48 hours. If you need motivation, I can keep the 'home movies' coming." Probulov hang up, satisfied.

Jack was seething, the CIA had nothing to trace the abductors, no prints, no footage, not a clue to act on. They had left no trail to follow, they probably weren't in the US anymore, they were out of reach. He was powerless and at their mercy. Or so they thought. He could not tell the CIA what the man had asked him to do, the disk would be completely unreachable. At least for now he knew were it was. He hadn't decided yet what to do. If the disk were to fall in enemy hands, whoever had it could cause a severe blow to the CIA. It was unthinkable to just hand it over, to anyone.

TBC


	8. Chapter 7: Who are you?

**COLLATERAL DAMAGE**

Eyghon 

**Author's notes:** I'm not an expert on 'Alice in Wonderland', I only saw the Disney movie, once, and I barely remember it, but here is a good website about the movie (see extract below): http: changed a few minor details from the show, it's barely noticeable but I didn't want to complicate things with the explanation for Sydney. Thanks for the reviews, you guys are amazing ! I have a beta reader now, Lenafan, she's incredible. She's doing such a great job, you have no idea ! Thanks L !

**Chapter 7: Who are you?**

Jack was not an emotionless man. He was a CIA agent. During his thirty years of service, he had learned the art of compartmentalizing. He had mastered it by obligation, so he could constantly…not work, but be…at the top of his game.

Over the years, he had shed many tears, tears of joy, pain, sadness. He had cried for lost friends, for his deceased wife. Being a widower had been hard at first, he missed his wife, but soon after the funeral, they arrested him for treason. His spouse was not who he thought she was. She was a fraud, an enemy agent. She had played him for years and he had never doubted her, not once. He cried for hours after being told that his whole marriage was nothing but a sham. He did not cry from embarrassment, but from pain… an unbearable pain that sometimes came to haunt him at night. After that, he knew he would not cry ever again. He wouldn't be able to. He was empty.

Emotions were always getting in the way in that line of work. It was suicide to feel on the job. When he was doing anything work related, whether it was in the field, in his office at HQ or in his study at home, he would shut himself down. Nothing could get to him this way. He could think clearly, strategize. He was invincible when he didn't let himself feel.  
Over the years, the line between work and personal life became blurry, then nonexistent. He had put himself so deeply into his work that he had forgotten what real life was like.

After getting out of solitary, he came back home. 'Home', was a notion that had brought warmth into him at night, when he was far away from home on assignment. The moment he set foot in his house, he knew that 'home' would never be the same again. It wasn't 'home' anymore. It lacked the warmth, the love…Laura. It was not an empty word for him; it would have been too easy. On the contrary, it was a reminder of his foolishness. His 'home' had been a farce for more than a decade and he would never get to think of it in any other way.

Sydney was the living proof of that. Since her birth, both parents had known that she was taking after her mother. Now that she was a woman, though Jack had a hard time admitting it, she looked exactly like her. She could easily be recognized as Irina's child by anyone who had seen a picture of her mother.

While watching the video file on his computer, he had concentrated on the man and on the background. He had needed to find out where his daughter was and as much as possible about the man performing the beating. It had also helped him not to focus too hard on Sydney and what was being done to her.

The forty-eight hours delay was about to expire. Jack had managed to get his hands on the disk the day before. He had entrusted it to an old friend, a genius in computing. The CIA had the disk for almost two weeks and made very little progress. There was no reason the SVR could do better. Jack asked his friend to encrypt a special program in the CD. It would destroy it at a given time, determined by Jack, in a week or so.

He couldn't come empty-handed to the meeting that he knew would soon take place. He couldn't give the man the means to destroy the CIA either. It had seemed like the best solution, he just hoped that Sydney would be with him when the SVR discovered it had been tricked.

Irina was angry, angry at herself. This was not supposed to happen, Sydney was not supposed to get hurt. She started this mess knowing it wouldn't be a joy ride for her daughter, but she didn't think she would get hurt. Worse, it was not just a blow to the head, it was torture, pure and simple. She had been exposed to Nikolai's animalistic rage. Not one part of her body had been spared. She would most likely bear scars for years.

If only Jack hadn't been so stubborn, so arrogant! It was so typical of him! He would do anything for his country, God knows, he had done terrible things and still did…but he would never betray his agency for his own daughter. An agency, which put him in jail for months, while knowing he was innocent and that his daughter needed him.

The man was such a fool, how could he behave so stupidly as to sacrifice his child for a disk?

The woman knew many agents like Jack; they were good at their job. They were literally devoted to it and it kept them from feeling any emotion. Her father was like that. He wasn't home often, always on assignment. When he finally returned, after weeks of absence, he would be different, colder. Progressively, over the years, he ceased to laugh at his daughter's silliness, at his wife's jokes. He wouldn't play with his kids anymore, wouldn't help them in their homework. He became distant and bitter, just like Jack was.

During their marriage, she remembered Jack as a wonderful husband, father, and friend. She now realised it was partially her doing. She had kept him 'human' and when she left, he had lost that humanity, like many of his fellow agents had before him. When coming to America, she didn't think such a man could exist; she was told that every American man was a retarded, selfish pig.

Sydney still seemed somewhat 'disconnected' when Irina laid her in her bed, less than one hour later. She had cleaned her, dressed her wounds, and put her in a pair of sweat pants and a tank top.

When they arrived in the house in Peterhof, Nikolai took a bedroom downstairs while Irina chose to stay as close as possible to Sydney. She took the room next to her. It was a child's room, Irina could tell from the abundance of stuffed animals. It reminded her of Sydney's room when she was little. The girl must have had more than one hundred stuffed bears and rabbits, among other species.

Irina found a few books in the shelves, including an edition of "Alice in Wonderland." She had thought she would never ever see that book again. It was not that it was unavailable in Russia; she could have found it easily. It was just too painful to think of anything related to her precious baby girl back then. When she came back to Russia, every little thing would take her down memory lane…childish laughter, kids playing in the snow. Sydney loved snow; she could play for hours and wouldn't even stop when frozen. She wondered if Sydney had learned skiing after her mother's 'death'. It's the kind of thing you do with your parents. They teach you how to have a swing, how to swim, ski, ride a bicycle without the tiny wheels.

When you are a teenager, they teach you how to stay safe. Irina hadn't been around for the last twelve years of her daughter's life. She had missed so many things! Could she make up for that now? It seemed unlikely. However, she was getting ahead of herself here. She tried to concentrate on the book she had been holding in a death grip for the last few minutes.

She used to read the story to Sydney when she was little. The young girl would never get tired of it, nor would she let her mother skip a few pages without moaning about it. Jack bought her the Disney movie, but she didn't like it as much as she did the book.

Irina started reading mostly to take her eyes off her daughter's blank face. She was also hoping that it would catch Sydney's attention, somehow. She was now starting Chapter 3, entitled "A Caucus-Race and a Long Tale."

_'Speak English!' said the Eaglet. I don't know the meaning of half those long words, and, what's more, I don't believe you do either!' And the Eaglet bent down its head to hide a smile: some of the other birds tittered audibly. ___

_What I was going to say,' said the Dodo in an offended tone, was that the best thing to get us dry would be a Caucus-race.' ___

_What IS a Caucus-race?' said Alice; not that she wanted much to know, but the Dodo had paused as if it thought that SOMEBODY ought to speak, and no one else seemed inclined to say anything._

Sydney had been growing more and more aware of her surroundings for the last hour. She felt better now, warm, comfy. She could hear a voice. Someone was talking non-stop. It made her feel somewhat… safe. She let the feminine voice sooth her, an odd sense of _déjà vu _nagging at the back of her mind.

Irina had been lifting her eyes from her book every now and then, watching for any change in her daughter's behaviour. She interrupted her reading in the middle of a paragraph, Dodo was about to reveal who won the course. She turned her head towards the door, thinking that Nikolai was the source of her discomfort, but no one was there. She still felt like she was being watched and her eyes wandered towards her daughter.

She found herself facing a wide-awake Sydney, a familiar pair of brown eyes staring right back at her. The younger girl was frozen, mouth open in shock. Irina gasped. Realization hitting her at what she saw on her daughter's face.

Recognition.

Lost in her memories of happier times, Irina didn't notice that she had lost her Russian accent to the American one while reading aloud. The sweet, warm voice of Laura somehow got to Sydney's unconscious, thus jolting her out of her catatonic-like state.

Irina had waited twelve years for this moment to happen…the moment, where she would be face to face with her daughter. At the time, she didn't know when it would happen, how old Sydney would be, where they would meet. Over the years, she had wondered, would Sydney recognize her, would she hug her, cry maybe? She had no answers, and still didn't. The circumstances were tricky; it was a variable even she couldn't predict.

Today, here, at that moment, there was no more hiding behind a mask, in the shadows. She was physically and emotionally exposed, naked. She was Laura again, the tender mother who wore her emotions on her sleeve and would do anything for her baby girl. She had never ceased to be emotional, but had hid it. There was no backing out now, it was too late, she had been 'made'.

For the first time in years, facing that young woman, she felt vulnerable and uncertain. Before this whole idea formed in her head, she had never thought, not once, that Sydney could be unhappy to see her, that she was making the wrong decision by finally revealing herself.

Growing uncomfortable, she wondered if she should speak up now or let Sydney take the first step. The young woman seemed to be struggling to speak, but no words would come out of her mouth. Unable to take the deafening silence anymore, she tentatively reached out, stroking the girl's face. Sydney backed off as if burnt.

Irina felt stinging tears in her eyes, but held them off. She had to be strong for now, for her daughter.

"Sydney…" After she left America for Russia, she thought she would never get to say that name again. She was proven wrong in Kashmir when she called out that name for hours at night, in her nightmares, during the torture she endured…she loved her too much to let go completely, and the KGB had punished her daily for that. She had called out for Jack too, but now he wasn't the same Jack she had married. Sydney wasn't the same either, but it was because she had grown up. Jack didn't have that excuse, he didn't grow up, he had changed. He had mutated to become some kind of stone cold, emotionless man.

The horrified look on Sydney's face when she called out her name was more than Irina could endure. Both sat there for what seemed like hours, crying, unable to talk or even look at each other. After seeing her daughter's reaction, Irina had felt ashamed and unworthy.

Sydney didn't understand what was happening, she felt like her whole world was crumbling, nothing was making sense and nothing seemed real. She let herself slide to the floor on the side of the bed and huddled in a corner, away from _her_.

"I'm sorry I left you with Nikolai… I didn't know…" It was the best Irina could come up with for the moment. She dumbly hoped the other issue would resolve itself if they didn't talk about it.

"Who are you?" asked Sydney in an emotionless, flat voice.

The older woman was taken aback by the sudden question and felt herself shut down. She briskly lifted her head, meeting Sydney's inquiring gaze. Reassured, she saw only questions there, no accusations. Of course, Sydney had questions; they were legitimate.

Slowly, she got off the chair and walked to the other side of the room, where Sydney still sat. She gracefully got down on the floor, mirroring her daughter's position against the bed. She was dying to take her in her arms, never to let her go, but rushing things would only worsen the situation.

"I think you know who I am. I'm your mother, Sydney," she quietly replied.

"I… that's not possible…" She was shaking her head in denial.

"I know what you think, but I can assure you it's me." After a silence, she added, "I am sorry I left you." She was sincere, giving Sydney up as a child had been the hardest thing she had ever done.

They had been facing each other but Sydney had stubbornly kept her gaze riveted on the floor. She lifted her head defiantly and spoke up, "My mother died in a car accident twelve years ago. Her name was Laura Bristow and…"

"…an alias. My real name is Irina Derevko. I was born Russian and left for America when I was eighteen. I choose to call myself 'Laura Matthews' and pretended to be from Minnesota because the US government was very wary of Russian immigrants at the time. I went by 'Laura Bristow' after I married your father. When I left you and your father to go back in Russia, I also took back my given name

Sydney looked at her disbelievingly, shaking her head. "That's bullsht."

"Then why did you seem so shocked when you woke up earlier? When I was reading to you?" She was losing patience; her daughter was so stubborn!

"You're not her!"

"Then why do I look so much like her?" She replied softly. She had to shake things up now while Sydney was still listening or else they wouldn't get anywhere. "Do you remember when you were little, 'Alice in Wonderland' was your favourite story. You would beg me to read it to you every week. You knew the lines by heart and you were only five years old!"

"Shut up!" Yelled an angry, teary-eyed Sydney.

Irina was finally getting through to her, now if she just pushed the right buttons. "Your favourite character was the white rabbit, and when I asked why, you would say 'he's well dressed, he looks pretty'. When I asked you if you wanted a cat, you said that you wanted a white rabbit, like the one in the book."

"Liar! How could you…"

"Know? Sydney, I know it is hard to believe, but trust me… ask me anything."

Sydney sniffled, well aware there was nothing she could ask that would prove the woman to be lying. Everything she said was true. It was little things that even her father didn't know. In addition, yes, she recognised her voice. How could you forget the voice of the mother that would lull you to sleep every night for six years?

Sydney had hundreds of questions now that she knew for sure the woman sitting in front of her was indeed her long lost mother… but she needed time, to think, to process. Keeping her gaze on the carpeted floor, she quietly spoke up:

"Leave."

Irina looked at her, hesitant.

"Please." Sydney's voice broke, her eyes watered.

Irina looked at her and sensed she needed to be alone. She smiled, saying, "Of course, dear." She left the room, shutting the door softly behind her.

TBC


	9. Chapter 8: Irina

**COLLATERAL DAMAGE**

Eyghon

**Author's notes:** Sorry for the delay, to make up for it, here is a nine pages chapter, enjoy! Thanks to Lenafan for the corrections and the ideas, you've been very helpful.

**Chapter 8: Irina****  
**  
_Peterhof, a few hours later__  
_Irina was sitting on the couch, lost in thoughts. She too needed time for herself. She had to figure out what to do next. Her daughter looked so distraught when she discovered who was hiding behind her captor's mask.

Over the years, Irina thought of a thousands ways to reconnect with her daughter. None of them involved the SVR and Irina kidnapping Sydney. It was supposed to go 'well'…they were supposed to feel warm and fuzzy, not cold and guilty. Sydney wouldn't hate her, but hug her. It was meant to be a wonderful moment of mutual love.

Being here today with her was a heaven-sent opportunity to make up for lost time. She had foolishly hoped they could make up despite the circumstances. She now knew otherwise. Whom was she kidding? She hadn't seen her daughter in twelve years, had abducted her and hoped Sydney would welcome her with open arms! Of course not, but still, a tiny spark of hope remained in her. She would have to see…there were always ways around things. She was an agent for God's sake! There must be something she could do? If only Sydney would listen to her, the possibilities were endless. She trusted her abilities in that domain…she would get her back by talking to her. She would gain her trust back first, and then her love. She would just have to wait for Sydney to ask the questions first, or else her daughter wouldn't believe a word Irina said.

She heard the garage door slam. The sudden noise brought her back to reality. Nikolai fumbled in the kitchen for a minute and went back downstairs. He apparently was trying to avoid any contact with his superior.

Several hours had passed since her heated 'conversation' with Sydney. She got up to check on her, but thought better of it. She needed a strategy, something to say when she would come face to face with her. After a few minutes, Irina came up with a perfect excuse. Sydney hadn't eaten anything in two days. She must be hungry.

When Irina knocked on Sydney's door, she got no answer. She poked her head in to find the room empty. An iron fist clamped itself around her heart. Feeling a light breeze coming from down the corridor, she closed the door and went to the bathroom. The window was wide open. Nikolai joined her.

"What is it?" He asked, curious.

"She's gone," whispered Irina after a moment's hesitation.

"What!" He checked the bedroom, which was indeed, empty. "You left her in there all by herself? We were ordered not to let her out of our sight, Irina," yelled the young man. "I can't believe you didn't at least handcuff her!"

Irina turned sharply towards him. "Don't tell me what to do and not to do. Where were you when it happened? You are as much responsible of her as I am Nikolai!" After a pause, she pulled herself together. "We have to find her before someone sees her." She made her way downstairs, throwing her jacket on to hide her gun.

"She couldn't have gone far in her state," mumbled Nikolai, causing Irina to stop at the door. "What now?"

"I gave her painkillers earlier," confessed Irina.

"Damn it!" He ran out of the door, saying over his shoulder, "Search the house, in case she's trying to fool us!"

Irina did so but the house was empty. She needed to catch Sydney before Nikolai did. God knows, what he would do to punish her for running away. She felt angry and proud at the same time. Angry that Sydney was endangering herself, but proud that she had had the guts to do something…to fight back.  
Irina knew she could have chosen not to alert her partner of Sydney's disappearance right away. She could have covered for her, thus giving her a precious advantage…time, but she didn't want her wandering the streets of Peterhof on her own. It was dangerous, suicidal even. There was no way she could make it back home without even an ID. She didn't know where the airport was or how to ask for directions, and she had no money to use a public payphone to call for help.

Actually, her main motivation was rather selfish. Letting Sydney go meant giving up talking to her, to make amends for the past, perhaps even the present. Irina couldn't let that happen; she couldn't just let her run away without explaining. She had waited too long.

Irina ran out of the door, praying she wasn't too late. She had let her baby girl be hurt once. She wouldn't let that happen again, ever.

The house was fairly isolated from the neighbourhood, but not lost in the middle of nowhere. It was nightfall and the heavy rain was not helping the visibility. She couldn't see too far ahead so she took the most logical path. Her daughter was smart so she must have followed the road going down to the city.

A few minutes later, she noticed a tall silhouette moving around the trees. Irina smiled to herself; Sydney was definitely a smart girl. She had chosen to walk through the forest instead of taking the clearing side or the road. It was harder to see her that way.

She tried to approach as discreetly as possible, all the while wondering where Nikolai was. She didn't mean to startle her daughter, but she was spotted when the escapee threw a look over her shoulder to ensure she wasn't followed. Irina broke in a run, successfully avoiding tree branches and deadly roots embedded in the ground. The soil strewn with leaves was slippery; the watery mud embedded in her running shoes was slowing her movements. Irina had seen her running while doing surveillance, so she was not surprised when the girl almost distanced her despite the climatic conditions.

She was still a good fifty meters away when Nikolai came out of nowhere and tackled Sydney from behind. The young woman let out a painful gasp when her already bruised body crashed on the ground.

"No! Let go!" She kicked at him.

The agent turned her around and punched her. He straddled her chest, successfully pinning her down, and started yelling at her, "Where did you think you were going, you little bitch?" He hit her again, splitting her lip, blood spattering her face and the tee.

"Please!" Begged Sydney, whose pleas of mercy were finally heard, but not by her attacker.

"Stop it! Get off of her," ordered Irina, roughly grabbing and shoving him against a tree.

"She deserves a lesson, for making me run after her in the middle of the night!" The young Russian argued in his defense. He stepped forward and pulled Sydney to her feet, intending to deliver a new blow.

Irina grabbed him again and socked him hard in the face, breaking his nose, thus almost causing him to pass out.

"I said stop it! Don't ever disobey my orders again, Nikolai," roared Irina. She turned her attention to her daughter, who was on her knees shaking.

The astonished man made his way back to the house, nursing his bloody nose while mumbling to himself, his pride seriously injured. He would make them pay for humiliating him.

"Sydney? Are you all right? Did he hurt you?" She reached out to cup her daughter's face, who tried to back away, fearing a new blow.

"Sydney," she said, "it's okay, I'm not going to hurt you…" Sydney lowered her head in shame. "Sweetheart, are you alright? Does it hurt?" Irina squatted down to be at her level.

"I don't want to die," sobbed Sydney.

This came as a shock to Irina, who looked at her with wide eyes, stunned.

"What did you say?" She said in an expressionless voice.

"I'm sorry I ran away! Please don't hurt me! I'm sorry!"

"I'm not… Sydney, I'm the one who should be apologizing." How was she supposed to say that? "I'm sorry, I didn't know what he would do…they tricked me…" Irina exhaled; it was neither the time nor the place for explanations. The soaked girl was shivering. She left the house dressed only in the tank top and sweat pants provided by Irina. Irina took her jacket off and put it around her daughter. No need to hide her gun now. No one would dare to go out in the woods in this weather. "Can you stand?" Sydney nodded and let her mother help her up to her feet. Things started to spin as soon as she was on her feet. Irina caught her before she could fall and picked her up in her arms.

"I don't feel good…" mumbled Sydney.

"You haven't eaten anything in two days, I'll fix you something as soon as we get back," replied Irina gently.

They made their way quietly up to the house. Irina had never felt better; her daughter's arm around her neck was the most incredible sensation. After a while, she felt she should say something to reassure Sydney, who seemed to get more and more anxious as they neared the house.

"I'm not mad at you." After a pause, she clarified, "…for running away. I'm just glad you are not injured." Sydney said nothing. Irina stopped walking. "Sydney?" and finally elicited a reaction from her.

"I'm sorry… I heard the door… I was scared, I thought he was coming back to kill me…"

"Who…?" Then it dawned on her, Nikolai. He was the cause of this mess. Too bad her superiors would notice if she killed him. "Oh sweetheart… I'll never let him near you again, I promise." She dared to kiss her on the forehead. Sydney either didn't mind or was too tired to protest. "Come on, let's get you inside."

_Peterhof, earlier__  
_Sydney was left alone with her thoughts. She remembered the last time she saw her mother, _that_ night. Laura said she was going out to get some milk, that she would be gone less than an hour. She never came back. A few hours later, two police officers rang the doorbell. Jack was away on business. Sydney was alone in the house.

The neighbour next door was a good friend of the Bristow's. She would notice there were no cars in the driveway and if the lights were on would assume the little girl was alone. She would come by, using her key, or just keep an eye on the house from afar when Laura had errands to run. Mrs. Bristow was never gone more than an hour and knew she could count on Mrs. Perry to watch over Sydney.

Seeing the police car that day, Mrs. Perry came to see what was wrong. They told her about the accident. Sydney stayed with her for the night. Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Bristow had any family in the area. Jack Bristow came home the next day, devastated. He left a few days later and didn't come back for months. Mrs. Perry took care of Sydney as if she were her own child.

How did it happen? How could her mother have just left, pretending to be dead? How someone could do that to the people they love? How could they let them mourn? She felt a tear run down her cheek.

She lost track of time, remembering happier times, memories of a loving, caring mother. She noticed she was wearing clean clothes now. She vaguely remembered losing control of her body while Nikolai was beating her. It had been too much, she couldn't take it and had let go. She went somewhere between conscious and unconscious, it was really weird. She did that once before, the night Mrs. Perry told her that her mother wouldn't come back, ever. She didn't eat, didn't talk for days, even after her father had returned the following day. She had felt numb back then, empty, cold. It was a strange sensation, hard to describe, and she had hoped she would never feel that way again.

A sudden noise startled her. She recognized the ominous slam of the garage door. She had heard it when Nikolai had dragged her down there to beat her. Instinctively she got up, panicked, and looked for a weapon to defend herself. She tried the door out of desperation, knowing it was closed, but it was open. She didn't think much of it. She didn't have time. The bathroom door was wide open, screaming at her to go this way. She could see the moon through the window and only hesitated a second before jumping.

_Peterhof, now__  
_Mother and daughter were in the bathroom, with Sydney sitting on the WC's lid.  
"Take off your clothes and throw them in the garbage can, I'll go get you something else to wear."

"Okay," said Sydney quietly.

Irina went to her room and fetched a simple black tee shirt and a beige jean. When she came back to the bathroom, Sydney was standing clad in her underwear. Irina's relief at seeing her still here was short lived when she noticed the black and purple bruises adorning her body.

"My God…" She knew the beating was bad, but when she had washed her earlier, the bruises weren't showing yet. She had bandaged cuts and scratches but hadn't realized the extent of the damage. It only stirred up her hate for Nikolai. She would make him pay, whatever the consequences were, she would avenge her baby girl. This 'man' would not live to have children of his own.

Sydney's head snapped up and she tentatively crossed her arms around herself, trying to cover her partial nudity.

"It's fine. Just leave the clothes there, I can dress myself."

The other woman eyes traveled down to her legs, where she was sure she hadn't noticed any kind of mark earlier.

"It's… I fell in the woods," said Sydney by way of explanation.

Irina nodded, "I'll be right outside." She pushed the door on her way out but didn't close it. Sydney got the message. She wasn't trusted. She didn't mind though, she ran away out of sheer panic. Now she knew even if she managed to get out of the house, she wouldn't have anywhere to go. It was like –10°C outside at night and suicidal to hide in the woods or in the streets.

When she was done dressing, she washed her face at the washbowl and came out of the bathroom. Her mother was waiting for her on the other side of the door, as promised. She walked her to her bed, gave her a glass of water and tucked her in.

"I'm going to make you something to eat, I'll be quick."

"Okay… I'll wait here. I won't run away again. I swear."

Irina smiled kindly. "Of course you won't." She picked up a pair of handcuffs from the night table and took hold of her daughter's bandaged wrist.

"Wait! What are you doing?"

"I can't take the chance lives are at stake here, Sydney. It's either that or I'll have to ask Nikolai to watch you."

"Can't I go in the kitchen with you? You can keep an eye on me yourself," asked Sydney, not wanting to be alone, handcuffed to her bed. The prospect of staying alone in her state of vulnerability with Nikolai somewhere near was freaking her out. She felt safe with Irina, but she wasn't about to tell her that. After a pause, she added, "Maybe we can talk while you cook?"

Irina thought about it and agreed. It would be nice to have her daughter by her side while she was cooking. She remembered a time when they would make all sorts of cakes when Sydney didn't have school. She had taught her a few simple duties to help.

"Alright, but put that on, it's chilly downstairs." She handed her a sweater and a pair of slippers.

Sydney was sitting at the kitchen table while her mother was heating some soup in a pan. She took it upon herself to break the awkward silence. She had questions and wanted answers, now. "Why am I here?"

That took Irina by surprise. She turned around and faced Sydney's quizzical look. "What do you mean?"

"What am I doing here, in Russia? Why did you kidnapped me?"

Irina sighed, "I… It's complicated."

"Yeah I got that already. What about Dad? Is it because he did something with the Mafia? Is it why you said there were people following me?"

Irina opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out. Jack, in the Mafia? How funny! "I… Sydney…" Of course, her daughter still had questions, and Irina had the answers. The problem was to give them without saying too much, without making her look bad. Now that the 'mother part' had been dealt with, it was time to talk 'business'.

"I need to know! Please! I don't understand. It's crazy. Nothing makes any sense, help me!"

"Your father… He's an agent of the US government, a very important one." She was trying to make it simple for Sydney to understand. "The people following you were _his_ people, they were supposed to keep you safe." At that, Sydney snorted and rolled her eyes. Irina smiled. "Trust me; I was not happy when I saw how sloppy they were."

Sydney froze. "Wait, you mean… you saw them? You followed me too?" She asked, incredulous.

"Yes. Nikolai and I have been watching you for a while before… we took you."

"That's… I can't believe it! My dead mother that I haven't seen in twelve years has been stalking me for God knows how long… That's just creepy!"

"It's not like that… I…" She looked away for the moment, trying to gather her thoughts, to find some way to explain. This was her daughter…one she has not seen for twelve years… Usually, she was not one to get confused, no matter what the circumstances were. She wished she could treat this as a business matter, it would be easier. It was not business, for her it was personal, and that is what made it hard to deal with the whole scenario. "The people I work for, they want something he has, but he wouldn't give it to them."

"So you took me… to trade?" It was more of a statement than a question. Irina could practically see the wheels turning in her daughter's head. She was brought out of her thoughts by a loud crash. Sydney's chair was knocked over, the young woman fists clenched at her side. She was trembling. Irina quickly got round the table and fixed her eyes on Sydney's equally dark eyes.

"What is it? Are you feeling all right."

"I can't believe it! All of this… taking me, the surveillance, being nice, letting this creep beat me and now all you're interested in is that thing Dad has," accused Sydney.

"No! I had an opportunity to spend some time with you and I took it. I don't care about this disk."

Sydney's voice lowered. "Who suggested it?" Before Irina's confused look, Sydney clarified, "…to take me? Who came up with the idea? I know Dad never talks about me at work or to anyone actually." Then, more pensively, "his friends don't even know I exist, so how could a foreign agency, whatever you call yourselves, how could they know about me?"

Irina's face whitened, she lowered her head, embarrassed. It wasn't an accusation they weren't there just yet. She had underestimated her daughter; she should have given her more credit. Underestimate your enemy could cost you greatly. Her price would be Sydney's hate. Sydney was not the enemy, though Irina was supposed to see and treat her as such.

"I can't believe it… it was you! It was always you! I should have known, the way you talked to Nikolai, you're his boss…you orchestrated all of this!" She sounded so horrified and outraged; Irina's heart sank for her daughter. She had to do something, to explain, before Sydney came to the wrong conclusions.

"Sydney!" Irina grabbed her by the shoulders, trying to get her to settle down. "It's not what you think. I had to do that, I had to protect your father!"

"Lives are at stake…" Sydney murmured. "That's what you were trying to tell me earlier; you were talking about Dad, weren't you?" Sydney said the realisation dawning on her.

Irina nodded gravely. "Yes."

"Explain. How did that happen? I know how I ended up in this mess but you didn't tell me why exactly."

"Your father is becoming too good at his job, he is getting in the way of powerful people, powerful organisations. He is the prime target." She didn't want to scare Sydney, but she had to make her see the reality of things. She wouldn't understand otherwise. She kept on going, mercilessly. "I discovered there were orders to shoot him on sight. They were sending people after him, whose sole purpose was to kill him. I couldn't let them deprive you of your father after they already took your mother…" At that, she stopped. She had spoken her mind, a mistake.

Sydney's head snapped up.

"What?" She knew what she heard but it didn't make sense. It would mean that her mother was working for the same people when she… died. The first question she meant to ask was _why_, why did her mother leave her as a child, but she couldn't bring herself to do so. Maybe she feared the answer. Maybe Irina would have told her 'I didn't love you anymore.' Now she would have her answer, though she never asked the question.

Irina was a smart woman and it was no slip of the tongue. She never slipped. Somehow, her unconscious mind expressed itself; she lost control over herself. Maybe it was for the best, or not. Time will tell. Now that the cat was out of the bag, she might as well explain. There was no way Sydney would just let it drop.

Irina took a deep breath and went to the living room, motioning Sydney to follow her. There, she sat on the couch and patted the seat beside her, inviting her daughter to join her. She did so, though hesitantly. Irina took her hand and gave it a squeeze.

"It was a long time ago when America and Russia were at war, not shooting war, but cold war and just as deadly. When I was sixteen, the KGB recruited me. They trained me for two years and sent me to America in 1980. I married your father and got pregnant just before the Cold War 'officially' ended. I thought they had forgotten about me, but they hadn't. They called me back and I left."

Sydney was looking at her, open mouthed. Finally, her mind processed the new information and new questions came to her, accusations, "but you could have stayed anyway, you didn't have to leave us, to leave _me_."

"It's not that simple Sydney. I wish it was," she added with a rueful smile. "They had been after me for two years to leave before I returned."

"What made you decide to leave when you did?" Sydney felt there was more to it than her mother was telling her.

"Do you remember when…it was the last time I took you to the park, the one where you go running now?"

Sydney didn't react to the reminder she was watched and scrutinized everyday. "Yes, of course, it was the last time I got to spend time with you." Her tone was bitter, but she softened as she was reliving the memory. "You bought me a chocolate ice cream, with chocolate chips on it."

Irina was looking at Sydney, a sad smile on her face, seemingly waiting for something, when realisation finally hit Sydney. "The man… you were with a man." She frowned, deep in concentration. "He talked to you and you took me home right after he left."

"He had a message for me." After a pause, she kept on talking, "he had a gun on you Sydney. You were only six years old. I was with you in a public place and he had a gun on you. He could have… hurt you and gotten away with it." She swallowed, "_that_ was the message." She was facing forward, jaw set.

For a few minutes, there was no sound in the room. Sydney was slowly digesting the information while Irina was trying to forget how close she had come to lose her baby girl. She told herself Sydney was fine, that she was right by her side. Actually, she was still holding her hand, unaware she was stroking it.

"I would never hurt you on purpose Sydney. You know that, right?" Irina asked bluntly, eyes pleading for her daughter to believe her.

Sydney didn't know what to answer, startled by the sudden question. She now knew the real story, or a part of it, and felt sad about it. She still felt angry though, and there was no reason for her to spare the other woman's feelings.

"Irina…"

Irina gasped, horrified, and let go of her hand as if burned. She got up and took a few steps back, hurt. Her daughter had called her Irina. Her family affectionately called her 'Rina' while her colleagues and superiors respectfully called her 'Agent Derevko'. Sydney never called her Laura, always 'Mommy'.

Sydney stood up and looked at her, "Did I say something wrong? It's your name, right? Irina?" She didn't notice the pained look on her mother's face.

The woman was tempted to let her defenses back up. It was usually how she dealt with pain, by hiding herself behind walls of steel, behind the persona of Irina Derevko, a cold and ruthless Russian agent. Her daughter's next words dissuaded her from doing so.

"I don't know you. How am I supposed to just 'know' you wouldn't hurt me on purpose?" asked Sydney quietly, her eyes steady on her mother's face.

"You can get to know me again," whispered Irina. When she thought everything was lost, Sydney proved her wrong. She was letting her know she wanted to try, to let her in.

"I would like that," Sydney smiled shyly at her, eyes moist.

They stared at each other for a few moments, neither of them daring to take the first 'physical' step. Irina could see her daughter was uncomfortable and nervous. She cleared her throat and nodded toward the kitchen, "we should go finish dinner."

"Yeah." Sydney nodded emphatically, relieved. She followed her mother to the kitchen and sat at the table while Irina reheated the soup.

The forty-eight hour delay was coming to an end. The disk was safely tucked away in Jack's inside coat pocket. He left in a CIA issued car in the LAX valet parking lot and took a plane to Borisport International Airport in the Ukraine. The man called him on his cell earlier, ordering him to take the next flight for Kiev. He was supposed to call back to give him further instructions.

The CIA had no idea Jack had been contacted, they were still looking for clues in Sydney's kidnapping. They proved highly inefficient until now and Jack couldn't take the risk they would jeopardize the exchange if he involved them. He would do things his way.

It was personal.

TBC


	10. Chapter 9: Take it or leave it

COLLATERAL DAMAGE 

Eyghon

**Author's notes:** I was very inspired this week end, I wrote three chapters! Thanks to Lenafan for the great beta reading. I take the time to pm you guys, take the time to review please!

Chapter 9: Take it or leave it 

Sydney was sleeping peacefully, thanks to the painkillers she took after dinner. Her mother was sitting by her side, watching her with love.

A few hours after the young girl went to bed, Nikolai barged into the room.

"Agent Derevko, we're leaving."

"Where?" asked Irina.

"Kiev! It's where the exchange will take place tomorrow. We'll be waiting in the car."

"We?"

"Chevchenko thought reinforcement would be useful. He sent some agents from Security Section." He left, leaving his partner to get their hostage ready.

"Sydney? Come on sweetheart, wake up." She gently shook her shoulder.

"What is it?" mumbled a sleepy Sydney. The painkiller's side effects were still making her drowsy.

"We're leaving. Put your shoes and your sweater on, it's cold outside."

"Where are we going?" Asked Sydney, now wide-awake and worried by the sudden agitation.

"To meet your father." At the surprised look on her face, Irina added, "don't get your hopes up. We're only moving to the city where the meeting will take place. You won't see him before tomorrow evening."

"Okay."

"Sydney, we won't go alone, other agents arrived," Irina added gravely, causing her daughter to look at her. "They supposedly are here to escort you, but in truth they are here for me."

"For you? Why?"

"To ensure I'm doing my job correctly. Nikolai must have talked to my superior about his broken nose."

"You were protecting me. Isn't your boss happy I'm still alive?"

"I went too far. It's a grave offense to assault a fellow agent. I won't let them hurt you but we have to play along with them for now, until I can organize an extraction team."

"An extraction team?"

"To get you back where you belong, in Los Angeles. I can't do it on my own now. We would get caught before we even have a chance to leave Peterhof."

"What do you mean by 'playing along'?" Questioned Sydney anxiously.

"We can't have them suspect that I am helping you. They would pull me off the job and send me back to Moscow immediately, and that's the best case scenario."

"What do you mean?" Asked Sydney, fearing to know the answer.

"When I came back in Russia after leaving you, my superiors believed I was no longer loyal to them because I had refused to leave the first time they asked."

"And what did they do?"

"It's not important. The point is, we can't afford to have those security agents getting in the way."

"Wait. I want to know, was it true? Were you no longer loyal to them?"

Irina paused, but replied curtly, "I'm still working for them, am I not?" Everybody knew that the SVR was nothing more than the KGB with a different name.

Sydney acknowledged her mother's rebuff and chose to concentrate on the current matter. "Why can't we just wait and make the exchange? Your friends have the disk and I can go back home. What's wrong with that?"

Irina sighed, "I thought that's what would happen when I told my superior about you, because I thought Jack would do anything to protect you. I was wrong; I didn't know he had become so…detached. He didn't listen to my partner when he told him about the exchange. That's why Nikolai did what he did. To give Jack a lesson. Your father won't just hand over the disk. He'll try something and it won't end well. I can't let that meeting take place; it will be the death of us all."

"What should we do then?"

"Do you trust me?"

Sydney hesitated at first but nodded firmly, "Yes."

"Whatever happens, I will protect you and eventually get you back home. You have my word, never doubt that, do you understand?"

"Yes," nodded Sydney, though not reassured.

A few minutes later, Irina emerged from the house holding a handcuffed Sydney by the arm. Three burly men came forward. Only one of them spoke and in Russian.

"Agent Derevko, a pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise, and you are?"

"It is of no importance. We will escort you to Kiev."

"Good. Shall we go now?"

"Yes. I will come with you and Agent Valenkov while my colleagues follow in another car."

Irina nodded and pushed Sydney roughly toward the car, under the watchful eye of the other four agents. She climbed in after her, letting Nikolai and the bald man take the front seats.

The drive to the airport went on silently, as did the flight. Kiev was around 1000 km away from Saint Pétersbourg; it took less than two hours by plane.

They arrived in Borisport International Airport two hours before Jack did. Probulov was already waiting for them in the plane's hangar. They left Sydney in the adjacent office while they discussed strategy in the main room.

The CIA had made some progress in the kidnapping's investigation. Jack learned this when he listened to his voicemail in Borisport Airport. They had the picture of a man stealing the car used to take Sydney away from the mall-parking garage. His name was Nikolai Valenkov and identified as a SVR agent. This information didn't change Jack's mind, merely told him whom he was dealing with: the Russians. The disk was useless anyway, so there was no risk in giving it to the CIA's sworn enemy. Still, Jack knew the consequences would be terrible if that particular agency was to acquire the information encrypted on the disk.

Probulov left to meet with Jack, leaving Irina, Nikolai and the three guards to watch over Sydney. He had decided to go alone, without back up from the present agents and without his 'merchandise'. It would have been too risky, but the Russian had every intention to play fairly, if the American did. It didn't mean he trusted him enough to go in without a contingency plan if the man was to refuse his deal.

The men were playing cards. There was nothing to do beside wait for Probulov's phone call. Irina was nervous, she didn't like the idea of Sydney not going to be present at the trade; it was not common in that kind of business.

She slipped out to go check on Sydney. She found the young girl where Nikolai had left her. She was sitting, hands cuffed to the chair's arms. Irina undid her blindfold. The security agents didn't want her to see their face or the location of the hangar. It was bad enough she knew where the house was located. Once the SVR had the disk, the CIA would know they orchestrated the kidnapping. However, that didn't mean they had to show all their cards.

"Sydney."

"Hey."

"I can't stay long, do you need anything?" asked Irina, patting Sydney's knee, hoping to give her some of her strength.

"No. I just want it to be over," replied Sydney, tired.

"Soon, sweetheart, I promise. My colleague left to meet Jack. If he gets the disk, we'll drive you to a determined location where your father will come and get you later."

"I wonder how he's holding up. He must hate me."

Irina was flabbergasted. "Why would you think that?"

"It's all my fault. This disk you want, it must be important to him, and he has to give it up to you in order to save me. He's doing something bad, for me."

"He doesn't hate you Sydney. He loves you very much, more than his own life I'm sure."

"It's not true anymore. When you died, he died too. He was never the same after that. He doesn't care about me." After a pause, she added, "he forgot my birthday. I still don't understand how he could do that. I mean, it's like a crime. All he does is to tell me to be home by 22h00 on school day or 0h00 on weekends. Once I missed the curfew. He was so mad at me…I swear, he's the devil. He's never there and when he is, he either ignores me or yells at me for nothing…he scares me sometimes."

Doubt overtook Irina. It hurt to think of him this way, Jack was such a sweet man when she was his wife; she remembered him as a great father and husband. Having heard about his limited abilities as a parent, she had to ask, to know, "He never hurt you, did he?"

"No! No, God no! Nothing like that…He just yells really loud, you know…I guess it's the only way he knows how to express himself with me."

Irina nodded distractedly.

"What happens after Dad finds me?"

"He'll bring you back home and you will never hear of us ever again."

"Us? You mean you too?"

"Yes. I can't stay in contact with you Sydney, it would be too dangerous."

"You always say that!" exploded Sydney, "I can't, it's dangerous…yada yada…Why, why can't you visit?" Then, more softly, "maybe if you had told Dad you were Russian he could have protected you. The US government I mean, they're like… powerful, so we could have all gone into witness protection or something. That's what they do in the movies."

It was time for Irina to come clean, about everything. "It's not that simple sweetheart. I did illegal things for my country." Sydney was about to talk again but her mother was faster. "Before you ask what is it I did, know that at the time, America and Russia were at war, every means was employed to take advantage over the enemy. And I mean by both camps."

"I know, you stole information, so what? I'm not stupid. I studied the Cold War. Mafia people do a lot worse and the US still cover their asses."

"It was…Sydney…I committed 'crimes', against the United States government." Irina fidgeted in her seat, uncomfortable.

It took a minute to sink in, but Sydney wouldn't give up. "Like…kidnapping people?" Still, she got no response. This must be bad, really bad, for her mother not to answer. Suddenly, she knew. "Mom, what did you do?" she asked almost in a whisper.

The irony of the fact that Sydney had finally called her 'Mom' at this precise moment was not lost on Irina. She got up, unable to face her daughter anymore, and left the office. Sydney didn't call for her to come back.

Jack's phone rang right after he had passed security. It was the same man again. He told him to take the metro to the Cathedral Hagia Sophia.

So here he was, pacing the cathedral square of the oldest cathedral in the Ukraine, waiting for the kidnappers' intermediary to show up.

It was late but there were still people going home or just wandering the streets. Any of these men could be the one. Jack didn't know. Jack hated to be so clueless, so vulnerable. He had to wait in the bitter cold, alone. For all he knew, it was all a set up to kill him and a sniper was about to take his shot. Why in hell did the man feel the need to meet in Ukraine of all places? He was Russian.

"Hello Agent Bristow."

Jack turned around, startled. A man sitting on a nearby bench had addressed him. He sat beside him, game face on.

"Let's get this over with," he replied coldly, taking control of the meeting.

"As you wish. May I see the disk please?"

"Where is my daughter?"

"Please, you didn't think I would bring her here, did you?" There was no mockery in the man's tone.

"Then we have no business. Good evening." He walked away briskly.

"Fine by me, I don't mind keeping her a little longer, but I don't think she'll be happy with that."

This got Jack's attention. He inhaled slowly and faced the man. "What do you propose we do?"

"This can all go away very quickly. Give me the disk now and I'll have someone drop your daughter off at a public park. Once I am sure the disk is the original and that it hasn't been tampered with in any way, I'll drive you myself to your daughter's location. If you respected your part of the deal, then we can all go home. It's a win / win situation, there is no reason for this to fail. Take it or leave it."

"I assume I have no other choice?"

"Actually you do, but not in the way you'd like. You don't get to walk away alive Jack. You have to choose now. Either you take the chance to trust me, or you die. I know you have the disk on your person. I could have you killed right now but I am a man of my word. A deal is a deal. Not so long ago you were about to be executed by the people I work for. Someone came forward with a plan to recover the disk you stole in Taipei. Either I get that disk or you will be executed. In either case, I win and I make my superiors happy. It's your call but make it fast."

Jack felt a chill run down his spine. So there were indeed snipers surrounding him. "Alright, I'll take the deal." He slowly opened his heavy coat and reached for the disk, mindful of the snipers. He handed it to the older man who took it out of its casing and gave it to a passing 'messenger'. Jack observed as the biker disappeared from his sight.

"The analysis should only take a few minutes," reassured the man, taking out his cell phone. "It's me; bring her to the agreed location."

Jack Bristow did not blink as he heard the man give the order. He prayed his friend's 'addition' to the disk would go undetected.

Back in the hangar, Nikolai hung up his phone. He motioned for his companions to get ready while he went to fetch Sydney. Irina had stepped outside earlier without saying a word.

"Come on bitch, we're leaving." He blindfolded her before cuffing her hands behind her back. He then proceeded to drag her to the main room where the car was waiting. He took two agents with him and ordered the third man to follow them in a second car

Sydney wasn't sure what was happening. At first, when Nikolai had burst in the office, she thought he wanted something from her. He had practically thrown her in the backseat of the car without explanation and her mother didn't seem to be there.

Now they were driving through the countryside, she could tell from the lack of stops and noises. It was bad, really bad.

What if they were driving her to her death?

TBC


	11. Chapter 10: The deal is off

**COLLATERAL DAMAGE**

Eyghon

**Author's notes:** A short chapter, but essential to what's coming next. Don't panic, it's not the end yet. I write the hours 'à l'Européenne', so you need to know that 16h47 means 4.47pm while 7h47 means 7.47am. 0h00 means midnight and 12h00 means noon. I could have changed that to accommodate you but it adds a little 'Frenchiness' to my story and I like it. Thanks to Lenafan for the help and the corrections. You're the best!

**Chapter 10: The deal is off**

It had been one hour since the disk was taken away. Jack hadn't been happy to relinquish his bargaining tool, but the other 'choice' he had was not acceptable.

The man's phone rang, "I see," were his only words.

Jack didn't flinch, keeping his face expressionless, his hand discreetly inching towards his holstered gun.

"Agent Bristow, I'm very sorry you decided not to trust me." He shook his head from side to side, as if sad. A shot rang out, followed by another.

They had been driving in silence for around one hour now. Sydney wondered what had happened to her parents and where she was being taken. She was worried for her mother. She had promised she would protect her and yet she wasn't there. She couldn't shake the feeling that something bad was about to happen. She thought of the last time she had seen her father. They had had a huge fight about her having a party. She had ended up breaking his car's window. When she had come back the following day, he was gone. She hadn't seen him since. He didn't left a note, didn't call, nothing.

She had been disappointed in him many times, but it was never that bad. He was not a bad parent. He was just out of the loop, but not in the same way as other parents. He was never there, never took any interest in her.

What if it was the last time she saw him?

Two figures lay slumped on the ground, two pools of blood merging into one on the cold pavement. The snipers surrounding the cathedral square were supposed to execute Bristow at Probulov's hand signal. Instead, it was his body lying there, shot to death between the eyes. Something had gone seriously wrong, but he needn't worry about it, he was dead.

Jack Bristow coughed and opened his eyes. His face was smeared in blood, his blood. He had been shot in the left shoulder but he was alive. He was not the only one sprawled on the ground. The telephone man was dead. Jack had no clue what had happened but he now knew he had sentenced Sydney to death the second he had decided to have this destructive program installed on the disk. He had killed his little girl. There was no way he could find her, the dead man in front of him would provide no answers.

A screeching noise jolted Sydney out of her bleak thoughts. She couldn't see what was happening as she was still blindfolded. She felt fear seize her as the men around her started yelling in Russian. She heard guns going off. Shots were fired from and toward her car. There were clank noises and jolts as if another vehicle was bumping into theirs. A violent explosion shook their SUV, which started to spin, out of control. There was another loud noise and the car came to a dead halt.

Sydney, who wasn't wearing her seatbelt, had slipped from her seat to the ground during the attack. She was stuffed between the backseat and the front seat, which had been acting as airbags. She finally managed to remove her blindfold by rubbing her head against her raised knees. She took a tentative look around her. Apparently, none of the car's occupant was wearing his seatbelt. The man in the passenger seat had his head embedded in the windshield. The young girl felt bile rise to her throat.

She didn't have time to check on Nikolai, not that she cared about his health, because her door was jerked open. More bullets were fired, aimed at the three male occupants of the vehicle. The shooter was determined to make sure his job was done. Nikolai's body quietly collapsed against the wheel. The man previously sitting beside Sydney slumped on the backseat at her eye-level, brain matter pouring from bullet holes in his forehead. He was definitely dead now. She screamed. The masked shooter grabbed her and forcibly pulled her out of the wrecked car.

Sydney's eyes widened as they passed chaos. Two more men dressed in black from head to toe had emerged of a battered SUV. It had probably been used to ram into the second car, causing it to explode. Sydney noticed one of the men was approaching the vehicle she had just left. He set it on fire with what looked like gasoline. His colleague was looking for something down into the ravine, presumably the other car, or what was left of it. He motioned for the driver to push the giant ball of fire toward him. Sydney watched as it tumbled down into the ravine, joining the second car.

Shattered glass and pieces of metal crunched under her feet as she was dragged toward the waiting SUV. She felt bullet shells roll under her feet before she collapsed in her captor's arms.

As soon as Chevchenko received the news, several hours later, he launched a search for Agent Irina Derevko, his prime suspect. He didn't have much trouble finding her, as she was in her office, a few doors down from his. He summoned her in his office, curious as to what she had to say.

"Agent Derevko, when did you arrive in Moscow?"

"Mid-afternoon, sir. I believe it was around 14h00."

"Why did you leave your duty?"

"I was bored. Three men from Security Section showed up. I thought there were more than enough to handle the situation." Chevchenko's brows furrowed. "I felt the assignment in itself was beneath me," she added haughtily.

"I see. So you are not aware of the new developments of this case."

"Last I heard, Mikhail Probulov was heading to the meeting place. Why these questions?"

The older man sighed. "The agents transporting the girl were ambushed. We recovered four bodies. They are burned beyond recognition. Only DNA tests will provide their identity but we believe them to be those of ours agents."

"Our agents? The four of them?" Irina looked surprised.

"Yes," curtly nodded Chevchenko.

"What about the girl?"

"Missing."

"Did we get the disk?"

Chevchenko scrutinized her face, looking for any sign proving she knew more than she was letting on, but found none.

"Probulov was killed, along with two of our snipers. The disk is useless."

"Bristow?"

"Back in America, out of our reach."

"What happened? How could everything go so wrong?"

"That's what I'm asking you."

"I beg your pardon?"

"The girl. She's yours…"

"With all due respect," interrupted Irina, getting angry, "she's not. She's merely a pawn in my plan, plan with which I recall coming to you. Why would I sabotage my own work?"

"Two cars were attacked and destroyed, resulting in the death of one of my best agents and three security agents. An American agent killed a senior officer while a third party, still unknown, executed two snipers. Can you explain that to me, Agent Derevko? Can you tell me how we lost seven of our people?" bellowed Fyodor.

"I can assure you I have nothing to do with a leak or the incompetence of my colleagues. I invite you to check with Security Section, I was here all afternoon."

"I know you were there," softened the man, "but now we have a useless disk and seven unexplained death among our ranks. I am not even talking of the humiliation of this whole agency."

"What is our next move?"

"I want the people who did that."

"I don't believe it comes from the CIA, it lacks their…incompetence. It was a well-planned, well-executed job. No witnesses, no prisoners. An overkill executed by professionals. I think it was an outsider job."

Chevchenko nodded, thoughtful. "I agree. They were probably mercenaries hired by Jack Bristow himself."

"Should I go after him?" Asked Irina. She was the only remaining senior officer alive in the Moscow cell. It was her plan, her mission, so it would be her duty to go after Jack if her superior deemed it necessary.

"No. We do nothing." He sighed and sat back in his chair, resigned. "We lost enough people over this man. Let's hope the loss of his daughter will keep him from the field for a long time. Dismissed."

Irina quietly left the office; relieved Jack was out of danger, at least for now.

She was worried about Sydney though.

TBC


	12. Chapter 11: Half way home

COLLATERAL DAMAGE 

Eyghon

Author's notes: I really enjoyed writing this. Thanks for your questions, it gave me some insight in how you see things. It was very helpful. As always, many thanks to my beta reader Lenafan.

Chapter 11: Half way home

**When Sydney awoke, she found herself in a brightly-lit room, lying in a bed. A shorthaired woman was sitting by her side on a chair, staring at her. Seeing her, the young girl sat up, disoriented. Nausea and dizziness threatened to put her back down, but she managed to overcome it.**

**"Who are you?" she asked, distrustful.**

**"Hello to you too. I'm Katya. I'm Irina's sister."**

**Sydney just stared at her, mouth slightly open. "She didn't tell me she had a sister."**

**"She didn't tell me she had a daughter," replied Katya evenly.**

**"She planned this?"**

**Katya blinked, confused, "I don't know what you are referring too. I'm merely offering you a place to stay until Irina can get here. A man brought you and left."**

**Sydney nodded, starting to put things together. "She told me she wouldn't let them hurt me. She told me there would be no deal."**

**"What are you talking about?"**

**Sydney glanced at her warily, "so you don't know?"**

**"No." Katya shrugged.**

**"So you're not an agent?"**

**Katya laughed, "No! Good Lord, no! I'm in the finance sector. I have nothing to do with Irina's business."**

**"Then why am I here?"**

**"She called me, saying she needed my help. She begged me. Irina never begs. It was enough to convince me."**

**"She must have told you something, explained…"**

**"No. She only asked me to lend her my company's jet and to provide you with a safe place to stay. You know as much as I do, probably more. Irina took care of everything else. Whatever everything else is, I have nothing to do with it."**

**"But she told you who I was."**

**"Actually she didn't. I knew the second I saw you though. I guessed. You look so much like her," replied Katya with a smile.**

**Sydney smiled shyly, then frowned, "how long was I out?"**

**"Ten hours. I was told you fainted?"**

**"Yeah, rough day I guess."**

**"What's your name?"**

**"Excuse me?"**

**"Your name? What is it?"**

**"Sydney, Sydney Bristow."**

Katy was thoughtful, **"I should have known. I heard Irina call out that name in her nightmares. I didn't know who she was referring to though."**

**"Nightmares?"**

**"It's a long story, I don't think it's my place to tell you about it. Are you feeling all right? You didn't stir once during the night, I was starting to worry."**

**"Wait, you stayed here with me all night, watching me sleep?" Sydney's brows rose.**

**"Yes. My apologies if it bothers you but…Irina never mentioned you, I was curious. You look so much like her. I was fascinated and plus, you're my niece, I didn't want you to wake up alone in a place you didn't know and get scared." Katya smiled kindly.**

**"Thanks," nodded Sydney, grateful for the attention.**

**"You must be hungry, would you like to join me for some breakfast?" asked her aunt cheerfully. It felt weird to think of her as such. The only aunt she ever had until now was her father's sister. She was an old and grumpy woman. Sydney hated her but thankfully, her father never forced her to visit.**

**"Breakfast?"**

**"Yes, we're in Italy, it's eight in the morning. I assure you, I'm not as a bad cook as my sister is," added Katya with a gentle smile, her eyes twinkling.**

**Sydney smiled and got out of bed. She followed Katya downstairs.**

**In the kitchen, Katya was cooking eggs and bacon. "So, tell me about Irina."**

**"Er…I'm not the best person to ask."**

**"You're her daughter."**

**"Yeah but…we're not...close...I mean…I don't know her. I thought she was dead actually."**

**"Really? Well, I guess that makes sense. You're what? Eighteen? She came back twelve years ago…I'm sorry, I should have known. She left you, didn't she?"**

**"Yeah."**

**"Don't worry, I'm not very close to her either. We haven't spoken in years actually."**

**"Why is that?" Sydney was glad for the change of topic. Katya seemed rather clueless concerning her sister's life. She didn't know how much she should say.**

**"I'm the eldest of three. When our mother died, I raised Irina and Elena. I didn't agree with her decision to join the KGB. I told her not to but she didn't listen. She's stubborn. When she came back from America, she was thrown into prison for treason. Two years went by before they let her out. She was different afterward, broken and empty. She didn't talk, didn't eat, didn't smile…She had nightmares, horrible nightmares in which she called your name among other things. There was nothing I could do to help her feel better. I took care of her physically until she was healthy enough to do so herself. One day I woke up and she was gone. I learned she was back in the government's employ as a SVR agent. I felt betrayed. I haven't tried to talk to her since, but she checks on me from time to time."**

**Sydney was shaken. While she had been grieving for the loss of her mother, safe and sound in her house, said mother was rotting in some dark cell, alone.**

**"She used to say I inherited my father's ears and her character. She was stubborn when she was with us."**

**"Was she a good mother to you?"**

**Sydney didn't need to think about it, she nodded emphatically, "Yes, the best mother anyone could ever dream of, until she left me when I was six."**

**The thought saddened her, Katya could tell. She decided to switch topics. "She'll get here as soon as she can. She has to make sure she's not suspected of having anything to do with your escape."**

**"What do we do in the meantime?"**

**"We could talk some more if you feel up to it. You could fill me in on what kind of mother she was to you, at least on what you remember from your childhood. I could tell you all about her life until she left for America."**

**The day had gone by quickly, spent talking with her aunt, sharing memories of the same person in two different lives. Katya had photo albums to show, Sydney had none, not even at home. She had a framed picture of her mother on her nightstand, but her father had all the family albums, probably somewhere in his study.**

**The doorbell rang as Sydney was helping Katya cook dinner. The woman went to answer it and found herself speechless. Her long lost sister was standing before her, looking nervously at her.**

**"Irina," eventually nodded Katya.**

**"Katya," greeted Irina in the same fashion.**

**"Come on in. Sydney is in the kitchen. This way."**

**"Mom!" Sydney launched herself into Irina's arms, sobbing. She buried her face in her mother's neck. She felt so safe in her embrace, a familiar and foreign feeling.**

**"Shhh, it's okay, it's okay, I'm here now. Are you alright?" asked Irina, wrapping her arms around her sobbing daughter. She had never thought she would get to hug her daughter ever again, to console her as she did when she was a child. It hurt to see Sydney in pain but it felt so good to be able to soothe away her pain with something as innocent as a hug.**

**"I was so scared! They didn't tell me where they were taking me…you weren't there. I was all alone!" sobbed Sydney, "I thought you had left me again!"**

**Irina's heart broke, a tear made its way down her cheek, she hugged Sydney even tighter. It had been hard leaving her daughter with Nikolai, but she needed an alibi. What better alibi than to be in the SVR offices? "I'm so sorry I couldn't warn you Sydney. I had to stay away, to protect you. If they had known what I was planning, they would have hurt us both."**

**"I was worried about you," confessed Sydney, looking up at her mother.**

**"I'm okay, you don't have to worry about me, sweetheart." It felt so odd to have someone care about her; it had been so long since anyone had bothered to worry about her.**

**"How did you manage to pull that off? The men who killed everyone?"**

**"I know people who know people. They were mercenaries, I hired them, I paid them. I'm sorry you had to witness that. Were you injured?"**

**"No, I'm fine, I was just so scared!"**

**"I know. But it's over now, you'll be home soon."**

**After a few minutes, Sydney had calmed down enough to keep the tremors out of her voice. Reluctantly backing away from her mother's familiar scent, she wiped her eyes and asked, very seriously, "Mom?"**

**"Yes?"**

**"We need to talk. I still have questions."**

**Irina sighed and glanced at Katya, who seemed uncomfortable. "Alright, but not now, I don't want Katya mixed in all of that, okay? I'll come in later if it's not too late."**

**Sydney was sitting Indian style on her bed, reading a magazine Katya had brought her earlier. She had had a big day what with meeting her aunt, sharing memories with her all day and finally getting her mother back. She was exhausted but couldn't go to bed just yet, she wanted to talk with her mother. She hadn't insisted earlier and had left Irina and Katya alone on purpose. She had the feeling both sisters needed to talk, to sort things out.**

**A few hours later, she couldn't hold back sleep anymore and slipped between the covers. There was a soft knock on the door. Someone entered her bedroom, closing the door softly behind her. It was her mother. Irina knelt by the bed and called out Sydney's name. Her eyes opened and she sat up wide-awake.**

**"Hi. Sorry I woke you, I wanted to make sure you were alright."**

**"It's fine. I couldn't sleep anyway."**

**"I brought you some tea. It will help you relax. It's healthier than pills."**

**"Thanks." Sydney sat up and accepted the hot cup. "How did it go with Katya?"**

**Irina shrugged, "we haven't seen each other in a long time. I left angry years ago, it's complicated."**

**Sydney didn't push the issue but instead concentrated on her main concern. "How is Dad?"**

**"He's fine. He's back to the U.S. and the SVR won't bother him again."**

**Sydney sighed in relief, but felt her mother was hiding something. "What is it?"**

**"He was hurt, not badly, but don't worry. He was lucky, it could have been worse." Inwardly, she thought he deserved much worse for putting Sydney at risk. She thought she had let him off the hook too easily. She might have to correct that later.**

**"What happened?" Sydney gasped.**

**Irina knew what she was about to say would hurt Sydney, but she was a big girl, she deserved to know the truth. "He didn't respect the deal. He tried to fool the man he was meeting with. A sniper shot him in the shoulder."**

**"But…wasn't that dangerous for me?"**

**"This disk was a bomb in the wrong hands. Your father had to protect it…at all cost."**

**Sydney swallowed, pain evident in her eyes, "I see."**

**Irina wasn't about to tell her she paid the sniper. Probulov's men were dead before Jack even got there. Irina's men took their place and watched the meeting unfold. They were to cover Agent Bristow in case something went wrong. Irina knew he would do something stupid. She had been so angry with him for endangering their daughter for the sake of his beloved agency. That's why she had had him shot.**

**She too had put Sydney in the line of danger by exposing her to her superior and colleagues, but it was for a higher purpose. The situation had escaped her control, as the Nikolai debacle had proven. She felt remorseful for what happened to Sydney, but she meant to protect Jack while he only wanted to protect the CIA, knowing all along it would probably cost him Sydney's life.**

**"When I get home, what do I tell Dad?"**

**Irina tilted her head smiling, "the truth of course."**

**"How do I explain how I escaped and came home?"**

**"You don't need to concern yourself with that, Sydney."**

**"Fine but what about Russia and Nikolai? Should I tell him that?"**

**"Tell him the truth, everyone is dead anyway. If we try to make up a story, he'll know you're lying."**

**"But what about you? I can't tell him you're alive, it would break him."**

**"He knows I'm Russian. There is a good chance my 'death' was an extraction and he knows it too."**

**"But the CIA will have proof you're alive if I talk; they will look for you."**

**"I'm good at playing cat and mouse."**

**"What if they find you? Will they send you to prison?"**

**Irina sighed, "I don't know. It depends. There will be a trial, unless I plead guilty…in the end it doesn't matter…I'll get the death penalty."**

**Sydney gasped, "whatever you did, you have the right to a fair trial and…"**

**"I committed crimes, Sydney. I killed people, people working for the US government. They were Federal agents..." interrupted Irina firmly. "It would be the Federal government who handles my case, not the state of California."**

**"You mean…agents like Dad?"**

**"Yes. It's considered treason. They can do whatever they please to me."**

**"But why? Why did you do that?"**

**"Because I was ordered to do it. Your father too did things he's not proud of and at that time, every means was employed to gain the upper hand on the enemy, by both the US and the USSR."**

**A heavy silence followed, broken when Sydney yawned loudly, her state of exhaustion now obvious.**

**"Come on, sweetheart, you should sleep. I'll tuck you in."**

**Sydney laid back down as Irina pulled the covers up, "Tomorrow morning I'll take you back to Los Angeles myself."**

**"Isn't that dangerous for you?"**

**"No, I'll be okay. The SVR is too busy looking for the people who attacked their agents."**

**"But what about the US authorities, you told me it was dangerous…."**

**"Don't worry about them. I'll stay in Los Angeles for a few days, to make sure you are really out of danger. You won't see me, but I'll be there. You'll be safe." Irina was not worried, Chevchenko would soon learn Sydney was alive but there was a very little chance he would try anything. **

**"Okay," agreed Sydney, reassured.**

**"Goodnight sweetheart. I love you." She softly kissed her on the cheek.**

**"I love you too, Mom," replied Sydney, returning the kiss with a dimpled smile.**

**Irina stroked her hair and watched Sydney fall asleep, a peaceful smile on her face.**

**TBC**


	13. Chapter 12: Home, at last

COLLATERAL DAMAGE 

Eyghon

Author's notes: I had to cut this chapter because it was way too long, so 'the end' I mentioned will actually be in chapter 13. Enjoy and review please!

**Chapter 12: Home, at last****  
**  
Francine Calfo quietly made her way up to her room. Her parents were sleeping in the room next to hers. She was supposed to stay home and study but instead she had decided to go to Will's to watch movies. Her parents would freak if they knew what she had done so she couldn't afford to be caught.

After silently climbing the wooden stairs, she found herself in the hallway. There were no risks now, as the floor wouldn't creak. From afar, she could see her bedroom door was open. It was rather strange because she had closed it before climbing out the window. What was the point in going over the wall if the wide open door gave her away by allowing anyone passing by to see she wasn't there? If her parents had noticed she had vanished, surely they wouldn't have simply gotten back into bed. They would have waited for her. Now standing in the doorway, she froze at the sight that greeted her.

A woman was standing in the middle of her room, half hidden by the shadows. At hearing Francie's gasp, she turned around sharply. Francie was still standing at the same spot, mouth gaping open. 

"Sydney!" She had just spotted her best friend's limp body in the woman's arms. Francie covered her mouth, eyes widening. Bruises covered Sydney's face.

"She's asleep," murmured the woman, turning back around.

Francie watched the woman's every move as she walked toward the bed and slowly, as if reluctantly, lowered her burden on it. The young girl shifted, missing the warmth of the woman's embrace.

Irina faced her daughter's friend. "You didn't see me here tonight." Francie blinked. "You found her here when you came home. She was alone and you saw no one. Do you understand?" This time, Francie nodded and watched as the woman stepped around her. In the hallway, Irina turned toward her once more, and nonchalantly said, her voice cold as steel, "don't make me come back for you."

Francie didn't wait to see if the woman had left her house and rushed to her friend's side. "Sydney!" she whispered loudly. She could see her friend's chest rise and fall. Reassured, she tentatively reached out and shook her shoulder. Sydney didn't budge. She was sleeping as if in a coma. Francie observed her more closely. She wasn't wearing the same clothes as the day she went missing. Francie stroked Sydney's cheek. She was warm but her face was covered in cuts and bruises. Yet she seemed to be sleeping peacefully.

Not sure what to do, and worried about her friend's inability to wake up, she grabbed her cell phone and dialed 911. She explained that she had found her friend asleep and couldn't wake her up. The annoying operator asked if she had consumed any substance; understand drugs, medication, or alcohol. Francie barked her address and hang up. She found the card Jack Bristow had left her and dialed the number on it. He had told her to call her at any hour of day or night if she remembered anything.

"Mr. Bristow?"

"Who is this?" grumbled the man.

"Francie, Francie Calfo, Sydney's friend."

"What is it Miss Calfo?"

"It's Sydney, she's here!"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Sydney, she's here, at my place, in my room! I just got home and I found her here, she's asleep, I think, but I can't get her to wake up!" Francie was getting hysterical. Why was everyone having a hard time understanding the situation?

"Alright, I'm on my way."

Before she could reply, he hung up.

Sydney slowly came too. Blinding lights were hanging from the ceiling. She frowned, there was a strange smell floating in the air. Her mouth was dry, her whole body felt numb and the bed sheets were scratching her. 

"Sydney?" asked a worried voice.

Sydney blinked hard, trying to focus, "Fran?"

"Yes, it's me."

"Where am I?" croaked Sydney.

"In Los Angeles, at Cedars-Sinai Hospital. You're home, Sydney."

"Oh! Francie, you're all right. I saw her hit you…"

"Yeah I'm fine. I got a minor concussion but I'm okay now. I still have a bump if you want to touch," she added, joking.

"I'm so sorry! It's all my fault…"

"Don't be ridiculous," Francie interrupted, "you should worry about yourself, I'm sorry to be blunt but you look like shit girl!"

Sydney smiled; she had missed her friend and her uncommon humour. Frowning, she asked, "Seriously, how did I end up here?"

"That's what I'd like to know," said Jack Bristow, who had just come entered the room.

"Dad!"

"Hello Sydney." He smiled at her, and nodded toward Francie as a greeting. He was dressed as usual, impeccably in suit, tie, shirt, and shiny shoes. He was clean-shaven, didn't seem tired or worried. The only thing betraying the events of the last few days was the sling in which rested his left arm. "Miss Calfo, would you mind leaving us please?"

"Uh yeah…sure, no problem," she agreed, though slightly taken aback by Jack's request. "See you later Syd." She kissed her friend on the cheek and left the room.

Jack approached his daughter's bed and asked crisply, "How are you feeling?"

"Funny…but in a weird way. What is that?" She asked, pointing to his arm.

"I…hurt my shoulder, but it's a minor injury, nothing to worry about."

"Good, I was so worried about you…they told me things…"

"I thought so. Are you feeling good enough to answer some questions?" He asked gently, taking a seat by her side, a concerned look on his face.

"Yeah, I guess."

"I talked to your doctor earlier; you don't have any injuries that warrant a long stay here. You can go home with me tomorrow afternoon."

"Sounds great," smiled Sydney.

"Now, what I want to know is how you got to your friend's house."

"My friend's house? What do you mean?"

Jack was had his business face on. It reminded Sydney of when she would come home from friends' houses. He would openly scrutinize her, looking for clues to see if she was lying or hiding something. He was doing the same thing right now.

"Dad?" insisted a confused Sydney.

"What is the last thing you remember?"

"Err…" She thought hard. What was she supposed to say or not? Moreover, how in hell had she ended up here? The last thing she remembered was kissing her mother goodnight, but she couldn't tell her father that. "I was in a car, and there was an accident. I blacked out and here I am." Talking about her previous awakening was the best course of action. She would act as if what happened in Italy had actually never existed. It was the most logical thing to do.

"That's all? I need more details, it's important Sydney, make an effort," insisted her father.

"I'm trying!" She sighed. "They put me in a car…"

"They? Who are 'they'? How many were they; what kind of car was it?"

"Dad! I…I was scared, okay? I was scared and it's all a blur! It's not that easy!"

"Just…give me as many details as you can," encouraged Jack, softening.

Sydney sighed. "So they put me in a car, I don't know what kind because I was blindfolded." She swallowed hard. "There were four men, but one got into another car. I didn't see their faces. They were new, I think."

"New?" prompted Jack.

"Yeah, there was this guy, Nikolai; he was here from the beginning. He was the leader," she added. He would have asked if there was a chief, best to cover that now. "Then three new guys arrived, to take me from Russia to the Ukraine."

"Was it him, the leader?" Jack showed his daughter a picture of the man identified by the CIA while stealing a car used in Sydney's kidnapping.

"Yeah!"

"What happened after you got in the car?"

"We drove for a while, there was nothing, no traffic, and it was quiet. Then there were loud noises, we got into some kind of accident I guess."

"How did the accident happen?"

Sydney wondered what she should do. She knew how it had happened of course. Irina's mercenaries had caused it, but if she told him masked men had rescued her, he would try to discover who had hired them…

"Sydney, how did the accident happen?" Repeated Jack annoyed.

"I don't know. I told you I was blindfolded, and then I blacked out during the crash," quickly explained Sydney, looking away.

Jack felt she was hiding something, but decided not to push the issue for now. Maybe he was imagining things. After all, why would Sydney hide information about her kidnappers? That sounded ridiculous…but still, something wasn't right.

"You told me you were in Russia. Do you know how you got there?"

"Yeah, by plane, but they drugged me as soon as I woke up."

"Woke up. From what?"

"They drugged me before, then I woke up in a plane, and they drugged me again, and after that we were in a house, in Russia."

"Did you see any of these people's faces?"

"No, only Nikolai."

"Who was with him?"

"What do you mean?" Her throat tightened, this was the delicate part.

"From what Miss Calfo told us, someone knocked her over the head from behind. What were you doing in the meantime?"

"Nikolai grabbed me. After a while, the woman who hit Fran helped the guy to get me in a car. No, it was a van actually."

"A woman? You never mentioned a woman before."

"Yeah…I was in and out you know, it's a little fuzzy and they both had ski masks. I was so scared," she added, half seeking his comfort, half to get him off her back.

Jack nodded, thoughtful. "Get some rest, we'll finish later." He got up and pecked her on the cheek. It surprised her. It was only a peck, but still, he never showed any outward affection toward her usually. She didn't mind the gesture.

"Where are you going?"

"I have work to do Sydney. Don't worry, there's a guard outside your door, nothing is going to happen to you here." He left, without any explanation about his involvement in this whole mess. Sydney didn't care if there was a guard or not. She just wanted her father, but apparently, he didn't understand that. He was gone already.

The next morning, Jack came back, still looking like he was here for business, but a little less…tense than the day before.

"How are you feeling?"

"Fine."

He nodded curtly and eyed his surroundings, not so sure of what he should do now. He didn't want to leave. There was nothing to do at the office and he preferred not to leave Sydney alone, at least for now. He felt guilty and ineeded/i to be here. Eventually, he settled in the chair by his daughter's bed and opened the newspaper he had brought with him.

"Dad?" Sydney called out, irritated by his apparent indifference.

"Yes? What is it Sydney?"

"Are we going to talk about it or just pretend like nothing happened?"

"Talk about what Sydney?"

She sighed. He wanted to play hard to get. Fine with her. "Yesterday you questioned me like a criminal. I felt like I had done something wrong. I hadn't. Today it's my turn to ask the question, and you are at fault."

For a fraction of a second, she saw him flinch. He lost his cool. It was brief, but she saw it. She smirked inwardly, so he wasn't flawless after all. Before he could find an excuse to run out on her, she attacked bitterly. "The movie. You know why they did it?"

His lips set on a thin line and he nodded curtly.

"Are you going to apologize?"

He blinked, "why should I?"

"You know why." Then, she lost her cool. His lack of reaction was infuriating. "God damn it, Dad! That guy beat the crap out of me because you played smart-ass! Why did you do that? Why couldn't you just do what they told you to do!"

"You'll be out of here tomorrow Sydney. There's no long-term damage. You'll be sore for a few days and that's it."

"I thought he was going to kill me!"

"I'm sorry, Sydney. I'm sorry this happened to you. I never wanted you to get caught in the middle."

"You lied to me." Her tone softened, he had apologized. Her father had apologized to her.

"I did it to protect you."

"They said they wanted information from you, because you were an agent of the US government. What are you? FBI? NSA? CIA?"

"I'll go find your doctor. Maybe you're good enough to get out of here now."

Sydney smiled and nodded. She wouldn't get her answers but she had won some points. Getting her out of here was his way to make it up to her. She hated hospitals. The sooner she was out of here, the happier she would be.

"Dad, wait."

"Yes?"

"What happened to me? After I lost consciousness I mean, how did I get here?"

"I don't know. Your friend, Francine, she found you on her bed. She called 911."

Sydney frowned, wondering why her mother had brought her back home like that.

Taking her confusion for worry, Jack added, "She said you were asleep, and that you looked peaceful."

"What else? You're hiding something." It was just a hunch, Jack Bristow was unreadable, but he fell for it and answered her.

"The lab exams revealed different substances in your bloodstream. They found chemicals used in sleeping drugs. My best guess is they drugged you and brought you back here. But that doesn't explain the painkillers."

Sydney's eyes narrowed. He was looking straight at her, as if he knew. She gulped and tried to control her emotions. She was being paranoid. There was no way he could know.

"What do you mean?"

"Did they give you pills?"

"Yeah…I was feeling really bad, I guess they wanted me to make it to the exchange." She shrugged nonchalantly.

Jack nodded and left.

Sydney was now alone in her hospital room. She thought back to the events of the previous night, trying to get rid of the fog that surrounded it. She wondered what had really happened, and why. Her mother must have drugged her somehow, maybe while she was sleeping. Then it hit her, the tea. They had had a long, honest talk, or that's what Sydney thought at the time, and all the while Irina knew it would be the last time they would see each other, because she had decided so. 

Since the beginning, she had naively thought her mother would bring her home, as in 'at her house'. Unconsciously, she knew it wouldn't happen. She knew there would be no tearful family reunion between the three of them. She had dreamed of such a thing all her life, since a little girl. Even after she knew 'people in heaven' couldn't come back down, she had hoped. Now, after her mother's warning and promise, she still couldn't help but be disappointed and surprised to find herself alone, in a Los Angeles hospital. Her mother had fulfilled her promises, to keep her safe and to bring her back home. She had never said anything about sticking around her and Jack. Only that she would keep an eye on her. Maybe she had kept that promise too; maybe she was out there, somewhere.

Actually, when Sydney thought of it, Irina hadn't lied to her; she only went behind her back to bring her home. Maybe it was for the best. Sydney wondered how she could have been able to say goodbye to her mother after all that happened. It was obvious, she couldn't have. It would have been more painful to say goodbye at the airport, or wherever Irina would have dropped her off, than to just kiss her goodnight and never see her again.

Sydney had blindly trusted her mother, and she was now 'paying the price'…Sydney scolded at herself. She was reacting as a bratty child, who only saw that she had been lied to. Okay she had lost control over things, yes, she felt betrayed, but what if it was for the best? After all, she didn't have to lie about how she had come back to America without ID or passport or money. She already had a hard time concealing her mother's involvement in this whole mess. Her father was even already suspicious of her, she could tell. She didn't need to give him one more reason to doubt her story by making up a story about how she got here. Irina had told her to tell the whole truth, but she couldn't betray her mother like that. In addition, it would ruin Jack.

What he didn't know couldn't hurt him, right?

TBC


	14. Chapter 13: Home sweet home, or not

COLLATERAL DAMAGE Eyghon Author's notes: I'm on fire, I love writing this fic! Hope you enjoy, please review. For information, in French, 'home sweet home' would translate 'qu'on est bien chez soi'. I actually don't know how many chapters there is before the end, so I guess we'll see. Thanks to Lenafan for beta reading. 

**Please people at FF, keep reviewing!**

**I got far less reviews than usual for Chapter 12, what's up, you don't like the story anymore?**

**Chapter 13: Home sweet home…or not****  
**  
Sydney had come out of the hospital the following day, after lunch, as promised by her father. He had taken her home himself. She was glad to be out but was under strict orders from the doctor. She had to take it easy because of her bruised ribs: no lifting, no running, and no efforts of any kind. Apart from this and few cuts and bruises, she would be fine. She was healing nicely and soon, there would be no apparent signs of what had happened to her. Still, her memories would probably remain forever. She couldn't tell if it was a good thing or a bad thing. Yeah there were some bad times, some tough moments, but there was also her mother's involvement.

Now, her mother wasn't there anymore, and Sydney missed her, despite the way they had left each other…or rather, the way Irina had dumped Sydney without giving her the opportunity to say goodbye. Back in Italy, Sydney had known she would have to let go, eventually, that it wasn't possible for her mother to be a part of her life, but still, being alone hurt. She wasn't exactly alone her father was here. He hadn't stopped working, he just did his job from his study, but he hadn't left the house in three days. It was a record for a work alcoholic like him.

Much to the distress of Sydney, though her father was 'here', she wasn't seeing much of him. It wasn't the 'here with her' kind of 'here', it was rather the 'here in the same house as her' kind of 'here'. He cared enough to ask if she was feeling okay from time to time. He asked if she needed anything too, but it wasn't going farther than that.

Day by day, she could see they were going back to the relation they had before it happened. Before she was kidnapped and beaten. She had naively thought he would be different, after coming so close to losing her. She decidedly had it all wrong! First her mother, now her father. How could parents be so deceitful? How could that be? Parents were supposed to protect you, not to hurt you, lie to you, or betray you? The lying part was pushing it a little. Lies could sometimes protect you, sometimes they were a necessary evil. Anyway, Irina and Jack weren't acting like parents, not like average parents at the least.

Ever since she had gotten back from the hospital, Sydney had tried to spend as much time as possible with Francie. She felt guilty her friend got hurt because of her, but she also needed the distraction, to take her mind off of things. Mostly, her being kidnapped, discovering her mother was alive, being saved from ruthless killers, and finally, losing her mother once more, resulting in her being back home, alone.

She had thought she could get back to her life as if nothing had happened but she couldn't. Despite her doctor's recommendations to take it easy and her father's worry, she had left the house for a run. Nothing was on TV; she was bored and suffocating in the house. She had dressed in sweat pants and a hooded jacket, had put on her running shoes. She had stayed on the driveway for a minute, admiring the shiny sun. Her street was the same; it hadn't changed. Cars parked on both sides of the road, children toys haphazardly sprawled all over her neighbour's garden, kids playing in the grass, teenagers practising their roller skating skills, children biking up and down the street. She had changed and she knew it. She had started to run toward the park, but couldn't go further than the 'stop' sign at the end of the street.

The further away she had gone from her house, the worse she had felt. Things had started spinning around her. She couldn't help but scrutinize everything around her. Was this guy reading his newspaper a Russian killer sent to kill her? Was that couple of joggers planning on kidnapping her? She had tried to spot her escorts, to reassure herself. Her father had been reluctant to give her many details, about anything related to her kidnapping or his work. He had mentioned that the Russian people had gained nothing from kidnapping her. She had felt reassured; she didn't want to be the cause of anything bad. He had also mentioned that she was being permanently protected by a minimum of six men. She knew they weren't the only people out there, focussed on her person. Her mother was there too, somewhere, watching her from afar. It was not fair, that Irina could see her and that she couldn't. Still, it felt oddly reassuring to know her mother was watching over her. It meant Sydney was safe from the Russians, and most importantly, it meant Irina really cared about her.

This morning, five days after her release from the hospital, she had woken up to an empty house. Gone was her father and his car. After checking his room and his study, she knew he had left for a trip. His suitcase was missing, and so was his laptop. He had left her, without saying goodbye. Talk about déjà vu. She had sighed, been annoyed, but not so surprised. It was to be expected. Jack Bristow was an important man, with an important job. Still, it didn't make it sting any less. He could have said something.

Surprisingly, Sydney's father had left a note by the phone. It was new. He usually didn't let her know when he left or when he would come back. She was used to it. She did her own cooking and the housekeeper was taking care of the cleaning. She did the grocery shopping with the money he left on the kitchen counter. The note was short, to the point, but it was an improvement. It said he had to leave without notification for a trip in Europe and that he wouldn't be back for a few days. It was signed 'Dad'. No 'I love you', or 'take care of yourself', just 'Dad'.

Sighing, she threw the note in the trashcan and called Francie. "Hey, it's me."

"Hey Syd, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I was wondering, you want to grab lunch with me?"

"Yeah sure, that would be great! Is your father okay with that?" Sydney had told Francie all about her father being worried every time she would go out of the house.

"Yeah, it's cool, he's not there. He left on a trip."

"So soon? He could have waited 'til you felt better," said Francie, reproachful.

"I don't mind. So, 12h at Luke's Cafe?"

"Sounds good, see you there."

Content with her plans for the day, Sydney decided to take a drive around the neighbourhood. She was getting sick of being secluded between four walls. She felt safe in her car and she enjoyed driving.

She drove around aimlessly for one hour before stopping by the cemetery. She didn't know how she had ended up here, and didn't really care. Hesitating, she weighed her options. She could turn around and go back to her place or she could stay here and walk toward her mother grave. It was, after all, the only reason she had come here in the first place. It was almost twelve o'clock and she didn't want to be late for her meet with Francie.

A few minutes later, she stopped in front of her mother's grave. She used to come here often, to talk to her mother. Now, those moments were tainted. It felt pointless to be here knowing her mother was not dead. The grave was empty, as the body had never been recovered, but her father had insisted on having a grave made for her, even though it would remain empty. She read the epitaph aloud, as she had done many times before. "Laura C. Bristow, loving wife and mother, 1951-1981". The name was a fake. What about the 'loving wife and mother'? Sydney couldn't tell. She didn't know anymore.

Her mother had betrayed her once, by leaving her when she was six, by making her believe she was dead for twelve years. She had betrayed her again only a few days ago, in the same fashion: she had left her without warning, without saying goodbye, without apparent reason. Had she ever loved Sydney? Yes, of course she did. It was obvious. Despite everything Sydney saw and learned in the past week, she knew her mother loved her and always had. Actually, what she witnessed had only reinforced her belief in her mother's love.

Still, the feeling of betrayal was strong more than any thing. It was painful, pervasive, unsettling. Shaking her head, she left the cemetery. She hadn't found relief by coming here. It only made her angrier.

Eventually, she left the cemetery for Luke's Cafe, downtown. Both girls had a great time. After a long lunch, they went to the park and settled on a bench. They watched the ducks in the pond, and the children playing in the grass. Finally, to finish the day in beauty, Francie invited Sydney over for a movie night. It meant soda, popcorn, and silly movies, like comedies. After the second film and her third can of Coke, Sydney needed a bathroom break.

She went upstairs and as she entered, someone slightly pushed her, closing the door behind them both. Gasping, she turned around in surprise. It was her mother. "What are you doing here? You told me yourself it was dangerous!"

"Shhhh! Not so loud. This house isn't under surveillance. I arrived long before you did. After seeing you having lunch with your friend this morning, I had hoped you would come here, eventually."

"What? But what if someone had seen you?"

"Your friend already did and she said nothing, not even to you. Her parents weren't here when I got here. Stop worrying about that." Then more softly, "How are you feeling, darling?"

"I'm fine, thank you for asking," harshly replied Sydney, still mad at her mother for drugging her and for breaking into her friend's house. "Now, when did you see Fran?"

"When I brought you here."

Sydney threw her hands in the air, exasperated, "Of course you did."

"I'm sorry it had to be this way…"

"I don't want to hear your excuses. 'You' decided to drug me, 'you' decided to have me unconscious while you took me back to LA. It didn't have to be this way; you just 'wanted' it this way. I just don't know why."

"Sydney…"

"I don't want to see you anymore," interrupted the young girl.

"Why?" Irina was shocked.

"You heard me. You made me believe you cared about me while planning your little stunt. When we were talking, you knew what you'd do. I woke up in the hospital twenty-four hours after going to bed. I had no idea of where I was. You should have told me what you were doing! I had a right to know. You didn't even let me say goodbye!"

"I was protecting you, so you wouldn't have to lie." Irina said slowly, carefully. She realized her daughter was angry.

"I covered you! I told them Nikolai was the leader. What's one more lie? It was my decision to make, my choice. You took that away from me."

At that, Irina's head snapped up. "Everything I did I did to protect you and I made a promise to Katya, I promised her no one would bother her with questions about you or me. I couldn't have you being able to ID her plane or know the location of her home."

"Protect me? What's with you and Dad? I'm eighteen and I don't need protection! I wouldn't have said anything!"

"I know! That's not the point," argued Irina feebly, distracted by the mention of Jack.

"What kind of mother are you? What kind of mother kidnaps her child, leaves her to be beaten, drugs her…"

"It was necessary! Your father is alive and so are you. It's all that matters. I already explained all of that. I am sorry about Nikolai. I didn't know. If I had, do you really think I would have let it happen?"

"No, I know all of that…" whispered Sydney. She knew her mother had acted for the best, but she still resented her for spoiling their 'reunion' in Italy.

"And I love you, never doubt that," added Irina firmly.

"I know that too. You just don't care about me."

"Yes, I do!" Defended Irina, shocked.

"Not enough to ask yourself what I feel, not enough to let me make my own decision, not enough to let me in your plans. Or is it just that you don't trust me?"

"Sydney! Of course I trust you, you're my daughter!"

"So? You're my mother and I don't trust you." After a pause, she went on. "I kissed you goodnight, I told you I loved you. I did, I still do. It goes with the title of 'mother'; I can't take that away from you. But trust…you have to earn it, it doesn't go with the parental package. You lost mine the second I woke up in Los Angeles." She finished bitterly.

"Sydney…" Irina's eyes stung. She had screwed it up. Once again, she had miscalculated. The human factor was tricky. She hadn't thought her daughter would be so angry with her.

"One more question. Was I really passed out when I got to Italy? Or did you have me drugged back then? I'm asking because it seemed like an awfully long time to stay unconscious from natural causes."

Irina lowered her head, flinching. "I thought so," sighed Sydney, turning her back on her mother.

"I can explain…"

"Just…leave me alone. I don't want to see you ever again."

"Sydney!"

"Get out! If you don't I'll scream," threatened Sydney.

Irina slowly nodded. "Alright." She reached out for the door handle.

"Wait."

They had their back to each other, making it easier to talk. "Yes?" Hope seized Irina, but left her as soon as Sydney spoke.

"Don't feel obligated to stay in LA until the end of the week. Go back to your motherland and your dirty business. I raised myself; I don't need an adult to watch over me now that I'm eighteen." After a pause, she quietly added, "I don't need 'you'."

Irina didn't reply, didn't turn around, and simply left the bathroom. She would hide in one of the room upstairs, until the path was clear.

Sydney hoped her mother hadn't seen her cry. She splashed cold water on her face and tried to compose herself. She just had to hold herself together long enough to get out of the house.

Returning to the living room, she told Francie she was tired and needed to go home. Her friend was surprised but didn't question her. They hugged each other and Sydney left.

She went to her mother's grave for the second time in a week. This time she had brought flowers with her. She had left a card in the bouquet, in hope that a certain someone would get it. She was almost certain her mother had left the city after the bathroom episode, but still, if there were the slightest chance, Sydney would take it. She sighed and carefully deposited the flowers on the grass. She left the cemetery without looking back.

A few minutes after she left, a man dressed in a suit approached the spot she was standing on minutes ago. He looked around him and, seeing no one, picked up the card. He read it and put it back in its place before heading to his car. The man in the driver's seat threw him a questioning look. He shrugged and climbed in beside him.

In Italy, Irina was laying on her bed, lost in thoughts. Sydney's words kept coming back to her, louder and louder. It hurt. It was the truth. Did that mean she was a bad mother? She wistfully wondered what it would have been like, if she had been around to see Sydney grow up, to participate in her education. Would she have been a good mother to Sydney?

A knock came at the door. Hearing no reply, Katya poked her head in. Irina had come back to her sister's home the night Sydney had thrown her out of her friend's bathroom. Katya didn't ask questions, she had just let her in, showed her to her room, and asked if she needed anything. Irina didn't.

When she had seen Sydney in Los Angeles, her daughter had threatened to call the CIA on her. She knew Irina would probably be killed if the CIA caught her, would she have really called them. Irina would never know. She didn't know Sydney; she couldn't tell what her daughter was most likely to do or not to do. She couldn't judge because she had no ground to judge. Sydney was practically a stranger to Irina. She had gone from a little girl playing with a balloon to a grown woman driving a SUV. Irina had missed a lot in between.

She had thought not having any kind of contact with Sydney was for the best. She wasn't sure she could have stayed away, knowing what was going on in her child's life. Despite being a SVR agent and a ruthless killer (God she hoped Sydney would never find out what she had done), she was still a mother. Sydney's mother. She had had no photos, no reports on her daughter's activities for twelve years. She had been literally clueless.

After Kashmir, she had needed time to heal, to figure out what to do with herself. She had entered the SVR and promised herself that she wouldn't get thrown back in prison. She had hoped that cutting all ties with America and the KGB would give her a new chance. If no one knew about her daughter, then no one would try to find Sydney to get to her. Then, she herself had given away Sydney to her superiors.

"Are you brooding?"

Katya's question brought Irina back to reality. She looked over at her sister, confused.

"What?"

"Something is bothering you. Do you want to talk about it?"

"No. I'm fine." Before Katya's hurt look, Irina added with a small smile, "thanks for asking."

"You're welcome." A silence went by. "I know we're not really close, but…we used to be. I miss that. I miss our gossip about boys, our long talks at night."

"We're not children anymore Katya," replied Irina somberly.

"I know. But we're still sisters."

Back in her room, Sydney wondered. Had she made the good choice? Would it pan out? She didn't know if her mother was still there, but she prayed she was. Otherwise, she would never see her again. Irina would never know what Sydney felt for her, and Sydney would leave forever with the regret of that night. The night she pushed her mother away.

TBC


	15. Chapter 14: I'm sorry, I miss you, I nee...

**COLLATERAL DAMAGE**

Eyghon 

**Author's notes:** Sorry for the long hiatus, I had writer block until a few days ago. Suddenly at 1 in the morning, I just had the urge to get up and write. Ideas wouldn't stop coming, I started two more chapters after this one. It seems this fic won't be over before May as I had hoped. So many things to do and so little time... I'm leaving for Morocco Wednesday night so don't expect an update soon. Thanks to Lenafan for correcting this chapter so fast!

**Chapter 14: I'm sorry, I miss you, I need you**

A few minutes after the girl's car had left, followed by a first Sedan and two minutes later by a second identical Sedan, a young woman stepped out of the shadows. She went over to where the Bristow girl and the Agent had stopped. From her place of hiding, she couldn't see precisely what it was that was so interesting. Now, looking around, she realised there was only one grave with flowers. She bent over and picked up a bouquet with a card attached on it. That must have been what interested the man in the dark suit. Her target had deposited her at the grave of a 'Laura Bristow'. The note simply read 'I'm sorry. I miss you. I need you.' Hesitating, the young woman pondered what her choices were. Eventually she took out her cell phone and pressed speed dial one.

"Yes?"

"It's me."

"You're early. What is it?"

The young woman was running surveillance on a young woman going by the name 'Sydney Bristow'. Her target was barely younger than she was. She made daily reports to her boss at 22h00.

"No. It's just…something unusual happened, I thought you would want to know immediately."

"What is it?"

"The girl, she went to a cemetery, she left flowers at the grave of a 'Laura Bristow'."

Irina inhaled sharply, "and?" she prompted.

"There is a card with it. One of the agents assigned to her went to read it. I went to check it out too, I have it in my hand."

"What does it read?"

"'I'm sorry, I miss you, I need you'. Cryptic huh?"

"Thank you for informing me. Resume your surveillance. I'll expect another report tomorrow at 22h00 as usual."

"Yes Ma'am." The young woman wished she knew what the message meant, but she knew better than to ask questions. Setting her curiosity aside, she put on her helmet and climbed on her bike. It was her favourite way of transportation. It allowed her to go anywhere she wanted. She could slip in alleyways and hide. The CIA agents didn't pay attention to bikes; they were on the look out for cars and vans. Moreover, her Yamaha was a common model and she regularly switched helmets, just in case.

Another agent was making his report. Jack Bristow had ordered the men in charge of his daughter's surveillance to report to him every twelve hours. The agents were to tell him every detail of Sydney's day: where she had stopped, whom she had talked to…her cell phone and he also order the house's phone lines tapped.

Tonight, it was time for the evening report. Jack Bristow answered on the first ring. "Bristow."

"Agent Bristow, Agent Maddox here."

"I'm listening."

The agent started to detail the every move of his target, and Jack interrupted him at the mention of her stop at the cemetery.

"Which grave did she visit?" He asked, already knowing the answer.

"A 'Laura Bristow' sir. She brought flowers with a card. I checked it and it was nothing."

"What was written on it?"

"Err…I'm not sure, it wasn't important you know…"

"It is important Agent Maddox. Do you often leave cards on the graves you visit?"

"Uh…No sir," sheepishly replied the agent.

"Go back there if you have to but I want the exact words you read."

"Yes Sir."

Sydney had had two full days to ponder what she would tell Irina, if her mother ever showed up. She had come up with nothing. She felt guilty for driving Irina away. Maybe her mother hadn't shown up because the CIA agents were following her like her shadow.

Sydney was currently at the UCLA library. It was her first day back. It helped take her mind off things and she hated missing classes. It was so hard to catch up with only a friend's notes. The agents had followed her all day. They didn't even look like professors, more like businessmen than academics. If Sydney could spot them, then so could Irina. Sydney had to find a way to meet her mother without her escorts suspecting anything. The only safe place she could think of was her best friend's house.

"Hey Fran!" Called out Sydney a few hours later. She picked up her pace to catch up with her friend who was walking toward the university parking lot.

"Hey you, what's up?"

"I was wondering if we could have another movie night at your place. You know, with your parents out for their weekly dinner and all…I'll bring the food."

"Sure, sounds great."

"See you tomorrow night then? Seven?" Francie turned and walked toward her car.

"You got it," called Sydney after her.

Francie had been climbing up and down the stairs for two hours now. She was going from one room to another, throwing things away, moving others. Her mother demanded she clean her bedroom. It was a much needed cleaning. She had stuff piled everywhere, coming from everywhere in the house. Sydney would be arriving in less than one hour and Francie's mother threatened to deprive her of her monthly allowance if her room wasn't spotless by the time she returned.

Her hands full of CDs that didn't belong to her, the young woman entered her brother's room. He had gone away to another university in North Carolina. They had family there and he had had a scholarship to help. She had borrowed some CDs of his a few months ago, but didn't listen to them anymore so she might as well put them back.

She pushed open the door and found the switch. She gasped. A woman was standing in the middle of the room, coolly looking at her.

"Who are you?"

The woman merely tilted her head, smiling.

"Oh my God!" as the realisation hit her. The shoes, the jacket. It was the scary masked woman. She wasn't wearing a mask anymore. "I didn't tell anything to anyone, I swear! Even Sydney doesn't know you're the one who brought her here…"

"Oh she knows, but don't worry, I am not here for blood Miss Calfo," smiled Irina reassuringly, slightly bowing her head. She was impatient to see her daughter. She was also dreading that meeting. Her last encounter with Sydney had proven that her daughter had no negative feelings toward her, but still, Irina needed to protect herself, emotionally. She couldn't handle another 'attack'. For now, she had to deal with a half hysterical eighteen years old who had caught her in a room that was supposed to be safe for her to hide in until Sydney arrived.

"Why are you standing in my brother's room in the middle of the night?" asked Francie, holding her breath.

"It's barely seven. I'm waiting for someone. Don't mind me, go back to your business, I'll make myself scarce."

"Waiting for someone? Who?" Thinking about it, the response was obvious. "Is it Sydney? Because if you think I'm going to let you…"

"You don't need to threaten me Miss Calfo. I'm deeply sorry to show up uninvited but I must see Sydney and this is the only place we could meet."

"Meet? You kidnapped her for God's sake."

"I'm well aware of that. I can promise you I wish her no harm." The young girl wouldn't let it go. If Sydney didn't show up soon, Irina might have to defend herself judging by Francie's tightly clenched fists.

The doorbell rang, interrupting any reply Francie might have had.

"Are you going to get that?" prompted Irina.

"No," Francie stubbornly replied. This woman was clearly here for Sydney, though her motives were still unclear, Francie wouldn't take any chances. That Russian chick would not get her hands on Sydney.

"Francie?" Repeated Sydney, shutting the door behind her. Over the years, both girls had grown closer and closer. They had a key to each other's house and often spent the night in one or the other's house. Francie hadn't answered the door nor had she replied to her calls. Maybe she was listening to some music with her headphones. Today was another movie night, but it was a special movie night. Sydney hoped her mother would have overheard her talking to Francie in the parking lot. She had purposely asked Francie outside, where Irina had a chance to overhear. It was a long shot but it was worth it, and Sydney had no other way of contacting her mother.

"We're here!" eventually called out a feminine voice from upstairs. Sydney was certain it was not Francie's voice. Sydney raced up the stairs. It was her mother's, she realised when Irina came on the top of the staircase to greet her.

"You came!" Sydney said, fiercely hugging Irina.

"You wanted to see me. Of course, I came."

"You wanted to see her?" questioned Francie, bewildered by the two women's ease around each other.

"Yeah…what are you doing here?" Why were her mother and her best friend not surprised to be in each other's company?

"This is my house," replied Francie sternly. "You invited her here?" she added, as if an afterthought.

"Yeah…more or less," mumbled Sydney, still shocked at seeing the most two important women in her life standing next to her.

"Are you insane?" shouted Francie. "She kidnapped you! She hit me! She's crazy and dangerous!"

"Francie, she's…"

"Sydney," interrupted Irina in a warning tone. It was bad enough the girl had seen her. She didn't need to know her name or who she was.

Sydney sighed, knowing what her mother implied. "Listen, I need to talk to her, privately. Can you go downstairs or something?"

"What?" shouted Francie, outraged.

"Please, Fran."

"I'm not leaving you alone with that psycho!"

There was a silence. Francie realised the woman she just called 'psycho' was probably carrying a gun and was dying to use it on her. Sydney was at a loss of what to say to convince her friend she would be fine. Finally, Irina broke off the stand off. Smiling reassuringly, she locked eyes with Francie, trying to convey her sincerity.

"Sydney is safe with me. We're not going anywhere. We are just going to talk."

"I'm not budging," stubbornly replied Francie, firmly planting her feet in the ground.

Sydney was tempted to roll her eyes, but touched by her friend's devotion, she did nothing. Irina had hit her and yet she was ready to fight her for Sydney. Letting go of that train of thought, Sydney motioned for her mother to follow her across the hall to another bedroom. She closed the door behind her.

"You wanted to see me?" asked Irina flatly.

Her mother's detachment startled Sydney, who quickly lost her smile. Her mother was grim, and suddenly, Sydney remembered their last conversation. Remorse hit her full force. "Mom…I'm so sorry about what I said…"

"What do you want, Sydney?" interrupted Irina. The fact that Sydney tried to contact her should have delighted her, but it didn't. She knew better than to hope for something that was unlikely to happen. She had been disappointed many times over the years. She had learned not to expect anything, from anyone. There was no disappointment, if there was no hope.

Irina had had a hard time deciding whether to come back to Los Angeles. She could have easily sent someone to ask Sydney what she wanted. Chloe was already on site, she was twenty years old, it would have been easy for her to approach Sydney discreetly and then convey to Irina whatever message she had received. No, Irina had to see Sydney. She couldn't let go so easily; she needed a 'fix'. She had willed herself though not to get involved in that meeting.

"I…" Sydney winced at her mother's cold tone. She deserved it, okay, but it was still a side of Irina she didn't know. Even when she didn't know it was Irina, who kidnapped her, she had been kind to Sydney, reassuring. Now she was chilling. "I'm really sorry; I didn't mean anything of what I said. I was upset, I…" She could feel her eyes sting from unshed tears. "That night in Italy, when we talked, it was amazing…I…I needed some time to think before I got back to LA. You took that away from me without telling me."

Irina was still staring at her, unflinching. "When I woke up in this hospital bed…I realised I would never see you again, ever." She was so intent on explaining how she had felt that she missed the pained look that crossed her mother's face. "I didn't want that. I wanted to stay around you some more, to talk about stuff. I wanted my mother. Instead, I got an interrogation from Dad!" After a silence, she thought about what she had just said, and lamely added, "I have no excuse for what I told to you." She lowered her head in shame, praying her mother would make some sort of contact with her.

"Sydney…" Irina's plan was not to succumb to any feelings she might feel for her daughter. She was going to stick to that plan, no matter what. Still, she softened a little. "What do you want me to tell you, Sydney?" She was dying to hug her daughter, or at the very least, to step closer to her. However, she couldn't get hurt again.

Irina Derevko was a prominent agent of the SVR, one of the best, if not 'the' best. People respected her or feared her. In both cases, no one in their right mind would try to hurt her. Figuratively speaking of course, as she had been shot, stabbed, punched, captured, tortured, and had any number of unspeakable things done to her, but no one had ever caused her pain as great as Sydney had with words.

Sydney realised her mother had been really hurt by her words, though she didn't show it. However, the fact she was keeping her distance from Sydney and refusing to acknowledge her apologies was speaking volumes. Sydney had treated her mother like…scum. She had been disrespectful and above all, hurtful. Of course, giving vent to her feelings wasn't all her fault. After all, her mother did drug her, kidnapped her, and drugged her again. Still, she had the feeling she had caused a great deal of pain to her mother and she wished she could take it back. She couldn't. It was too late.

Sydney sighed. "I just needed to talk to you…I thought it was going to be different, with Dad…"

"What happened?" Irina stiffened slightly.

"Nothing! That's the problem! At first he was kind of nice, nicer than usual I mean. He acted as if he cared…and then, one morning I woke up and he's gone. He left without telling me, just as he did before. He got back to ignoring me and leaving me alone…"

"Sydney, I'm so sorry…" Irina's hand affectionately brushed against Sydney's cheek.

"I think he knows I'm hiding something," gravely added Sydney.

Irina sighed. "What do you want from me, Sydney?"

"I don't know…I'm not sure. I had my mom and my dad for the first six years of my life. For the last twelve years, I only got my Dad and he was never much of a Dad to me. I got a taste of my Mom and I want more. I want to be with you."

Irina was stunned. She hadn't expected that. Needing to be certain, she asked, "What do you mean you want to be with me?"

"I want to live with you. If you want me," quietly added Sydney, unsure of what to expect.

"Of course, I want you Sydney, you're my daughter! I've always wanted to be with you but…I don't have a 'Mom's lifestyle'. If you want to live with me, you'll have to leave the United States, your friends, your father! It demands many sacrifices and you're still so young…"

"I'm an adult, Mom, and I was going to move away from the house next year. It's too far from campus. I don't mind leaving the US, really. As long as I get to be with you I would follow you anywhere."

Irina was touched by her daughter's words. She did not expect this development. "If we do that, I can't go back to Russia either. The SVR will know I had a role in your escape. They'll want my head. I can't promise you it will be nice and comfortable everyday. It won't be easy, it's a complete change of lifestyle, Sydney."

"Mom, I had days to think about it. I made my decision, whatever the consequences, the changes, or the sacrifices; I want to live with you. You told me you want to live with me too but…how do we do that?"

"I'll need a few days to work on it. I'll get back to you as soon as I can. In the meantime, you have to act like usual. Don't say goodbye to anyone or lead people to believe you won't be there next week for a party or anything. No one must know, not even Francie. Do you understand Sydney?"

"Yeah," murmured Sydney, realising it would be harder than she thought.

"Good. You should go now; your friend must be worried."

"Yeah. Thank you, Mom."

"I love you Sweetheart." Irina smiled warmly as she kissed Sydney on the forehead. She had meant to say it for a long time, with reason behind it, just because she felt like it, and not as a reply like in Italy.

"I love you too Mom."

Sydney was grinning from ear to ear as she wandered in search of her friend. She eventually found her downstairs in the living room.

"Hey, you moved," she teased, plopping on the couch.

"Yeah, sorry I behaved like an idiot."

"Its okay, you just acted like a friend. I'm grateful for that. What's on tonight?"

Francie glanced at her. Sydney was literally glowing. Francie understood she didn't want to talk about whatever had happened upstairs with the woman. She cheerfully announced the films available and the evening went on as usual.

"Hello? Scary lady?" Francie quietly called out several times, hugging the walls as she progressed through her house.

"Are you looking for me?" Asked the woman, stepping out from the end of the corridor, behind Francie.

"Jesus Christ!" Francie backed into the wall, gasping for breath.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you," apologized Irina softly. Francie nodded, too scared to talk.

"What do you intend on doing with that?" she asked, pointing to the umbrella Francie was clutching.

"Ow…Uh…Just in case…you weren't as friendly as Sydney seems to think you are. Sorry for calling you 'scary lady', you didn't exactly tell me your name last time I saw you…" After a silence, she added, "Syd didn't either. She left."

"Obviously. So, is there something you wanted to ask me before I leave?" inquired Irina politely. She had hit the girl hard, and she was Sydney's best friend. Making small talk with her was the least Irina could do.

"I…I don't understand why Sydney would want to see you, unless she's gone insane or suicidal, which I don't think she is."

"Your point?" prompted Irina.

"I…I was just curious. She seemed happy when she came back down. I was wondering what had happened."

"Curiosity killed the cat Miss Calfo," Irina gently scolded.

Francie drew in a shaky breath, "Yeah, I see. Goodnight." She ran back to her room and slammed the door behind her. Sydney was hiding something from her. Best friends didn't hide something from each other. It was just not like Sydney to lie to her face.

Irina couldn't help but smile at her daughter's best friend. She had waited until Sydney and her surveillance team left before leaving herself. She tried to concentrate on the task. She had a lot to think about now. It was time to leave and prepare for hers and Sydney's departure. There were many things to do and it would take some time to fall into place. The easiest would be to procure new ID's, but for that, she needed to find a new home. She needed a developed country, where an American wouldn't stand out. She needed it to be convenient to hide from both the American and the Russian authorities. She was thinking of a European country, preferably in a major city. Italy? Spain? France maybe?

Then there was the problem of leaving the United States. Sydney was under tight surveillance. They couldn't afford to be followed to the airport. She also had to warn Sydney before taking her anywhere. Her daughter would be furious with her, and rightfully so, if she was to take her away without warning. Irina needed to make sure that Sydney really wanted to leave the US with her and live in another country. She had come to Irina because her father wasn't acting like one. Irina couldn't have her change her mind, she would have nothing left then. She would be on the run from the CIA and the KGB on her own.

Irina needed to make sure it was what Sydney really wanted without a doubt.

TBC


	16. Chapter 15: There will be no goodbyes

**COLLATERAL DAMAGE**

Eyghon 

**Author's notes:** I hope you're all happy with how it's turning out. It's not over yet, I'm just hesitating on how to proceed. There will be some contact between Jack and Irina, directly or indirectly I'm not sure yet but I'm working on it. Thanks to Lenafan for beta reading this chapter.

**Chapter 15: There will be no goodbyes****  
**  
Sydney stopped at a red light. It was a beautiful sunny afternoon. She was driving with the windows open, enjoying the feel of the wind on her face. A motorcycle pulled up beside her. The driver, a woman she noticed, was revving up the gas. Sydney didn't realise it at the moment, but it was probably in case her escorts tried to listen in.

"Hi!"

Sydney glanced at her, surprised, and nodded.

"Irina sent me."

Now the young woman had Sydney's whole attention. Sydney hadn't have heard of her in two days, tonight would make it three. Mindful of her tails, she tried to keep her composure.

"Go to your friend's house, tonight."

Sydney nodded, confirming she got the message. The light turned green again. The biker accelerated through the intersection before Sydney stepped on the gas.

When she got home, her father was at the kitchen counter, going through the mail.

"Hi," said Sydney, heading for the stairs.

"Stay here, I need to talk to you," replied Jack, continuing his reading as Sydney went to stand in front of him. She waited patiently and he eventually lifted his eyes off the mail. His gaze was penetrating. He was searching her. During the little time he had been here after her release from the hospital, she felt he was holding back on her. He wanted to ask her something, but didn't deem her ready. Until now, it seemed. "How is school?"

That took Sydney by surprise. "Fine, I guess."

Jack nodded curtly, seemingly waiting for something. Getting nervous, Sydney caved in, "Dad what do you want?"

He rewarded her with a direct answer. "The people watching you reported you went to your mother's grave recently."

Sydney gulped; so that was it. He had doubts since she came back, and her going to her mother's grave confirmed his suspicions. She tried not to let it show but she was definitely worried now. "I thought they were there to protect me, not to spy on me or invade my privacy and report their findings to you." She had tried to cover herself by an irritated reply, making Jack the villain who'd done something wrong. It didn't work; it made him only more skeptical of her story.

"Sydney, why did you go to your mother's grave, why now?"

The young girl knew her visiting it irritated him. Always had, ever since he had come back from wherever he was after Laura's death. He refused to talk about his late wife, even to Sydney. He had forbidden her to mention her. Once, her nanny took her to the cemetery. He fired her. She didn't know she was not supposed to bring her young charge to see Mrs. Bristow's grave, but still, he had gotten rid of her. The next time Sydney was able to go to her mother's grave was when she was authorized to leave the house on her own. She was fourteen and hadn't told her father, who was away when she had gone. Now she knew why. He had known. During all those years, he knew who his wife had been. Maybe he didn't know she was alive now, but he sure as hell knew she had been KGB when she married him. Hence his resentment of her.

She made up a reply she hoped was convincing enough to satisfy him. "I was really scared. I thought I was going to die, so I thought of Mom a lot while I was away. When it was over, when I was back here…I just had to see her."

"Why the flowers?" Jack asked, prodding mercilessly.

"You brought flowers when you visit a grave, Dad. It's what normal people do," Sydney retorted, ironicly.

"But they don't put a card in it." He accused. He thought he was going to get her, Sydney realised. He was wrong. There was too much at stake for her to mess up. She had to keep up the pretence that everything was fine and that she didn't know where he was going with his questions. She had to play the guileless teenager who was getting annoyed with her father's inquiries.

"I can't believe you would go so far and intrude like that. I have a right to a personal life you know! Some things are private for a reason!" Before her father's stern look, she sighed and replied, half feigning distress, "I couldn't say it out loud…" She took a pause, sniffled, and closed her eyes as if trying to collect herself.

Every kid did that once, lied his ass off to his parents, playing the emotional part to be left off the hook. There was no reason it would not work on Jack. He didn't think enough of her to consider she was manipulating him. "So I wrote it. Excuse me." She left the room, wiping at her eyes. He said nothing, didn't look at her leave. It wasn't all for show. Saying those things to him, thinking about her childhood after her mother's 'death' had brought emotions to the surfaces. Emotions she didn't know she still felt, even though she knew her mother was alive.

Jack felt unsure. Was Sydney sincere or was she playing him? When Agent Maddox had returned to the cemetery the card was missing.

For now, he had no way of telling if Sydney was lying or not. He didn't know her like he used to but she knew him. She knew how to block him out and he didn't know how to get in. The people he usually interrogated didn't know him, didn't know how to protect themselves from him before he had invaded their mind and gotten what he wanted out of them. This was going to be harder than he expected. He had a feeling something was wrong and wouldn't stop searching until he found what it was that Sydney was hiding.

When Sydney asked Francie if she could come over for movie night, Francie threw her a reproachful glare, "you're going to talk to the scary lady again?"

"Yeah, but when we're done we can watch movies and eat junk food. It probably won't take long, I swear."

Francie sighed, "I'm still your best friend, right?"

"Yes, of course! Why would you think otherwise?"

"Syd, I've known you for years, you're like a sister to me. I can tell when you're lying to me. I hate that. I can understand you have to hide things from me. Just don't lie to me please, tell me you can't answer, but don't look at me in the eye and tell me shit."

Sydney was shocked. She didn't know her friend had noticed she was lying. She didn't know it hurt Francie so much to be lied to. She felt ashamed, for what she was doing, and for what she would do, eventually. Her mother's words stuck in her head. Soon she would have to leave her father, her friends, her studies behind. She would have to quit her life. Things would never be the same again for her and her father. She knew that, but she hadn't expected Francie to be so affected. What would she think when she learned Sydney was missing, on her own free will this time? What would she think when she understood her friend left her without even so much of as a goodbye?

Sydney wanted to live with her mother. It had always been her dream. When her mother had 'died', she had wished she'd had more time with her. Now that it was possible and she couldn't let the opportunity slip through her fingers.

What's a best friend? I can get myself another one. I had a best friend in pre-school, another one in school, and then…Then Francie had come along in middle school, had stayed with her in high school and was still here in college. Sydney sighed. It wouldn't be as easy as she had thought.

And her father…

"Okay," answered Sydney quietly. "See you later."

Francie nodded, biting her lips, and walked away.

Sydney went upstairs in search of Irina, whom Francie hadn't tried to find. Sydney felt bad, lying to her friend but she was also thinking of what would happen when it was time to leave. Irina warned her it would be a new country, a new way of life, and that she would have nothing left from home. She couldn't call her friends or even her father for a certain amount of time, at least until they were settled. She would have to leave Francie without telling her goodbye. Her friend would probably hate her for the rest of her life.

"Hello Sydney."

Sydney looked up. Lost in thoughts, she had almost bumped into Irina who was waiting for her in the guest bedroom, the same they had occupied last time.

"Mom! What is it?" Her mother's actions were always unsettling. It was impossible to tell what she was thinking, what she wanted, or why she was acting the way she did. Tonight, she looked grim, almost…resolute. Yeah, that was it. Sydney knew better than to see it as a bad sign, but still, her voice was chilling.

Irina willed herself not to screw this up. She had decided she would have to resort to drastic measures to ensure Sydney had definitely made up her mind. Even if it meant her daughter would get hurt in the process or would hate Irina.

"I can't take you with me."

"What?" Disbelief and hurt flashed across Sydney's face.

"I have lived alone the past twelve years," started Irina. It was actually ten but she wasn't about to mention her Kashmir stay. "I can't take care of a child."

"But…you can't be serious! I'm not a child, I'm eighteen!" Sydney was angry.

"My answer is 'no', Sydney. It's not open to discussion."

"What happened?" Gone was the lost and scared child. Irina was facing a grown up woman, her daughter, who had questions and 'demanded' answers. 'It's a grown up matter' wouldn't work here.

"I love you very much sweetheart, never doubt that…"

"What happened?" repeated Sydney, lower, colder.

Irina sighed. Sydney wouldn't take an evasive answer either. Irina settled for the truth. She owed her that. "You said it yourself, you're eighteen. Your future lies here. Your life lies here. You belong with your friends. With your father," she softly added. "Who am I to take that away from you, to take you away from them?"

"And who are you to decide for me? Who are you to decide what's best for me?"

"I'm your mother, I know."

"On what are you basing your analysis? Huh? You don't know me Mother. You know nothing about me and you dare to judge what I want and don't want."

"It's not about what you want; it's about what's best. I want the best for you."

"And why do you think the best is here and not with you?"

"Sydney I am not Laura Bristow, I am not an English literature teacher. I am not a nice average American housewife. I am a Russian spy, an assassin." Irina hoped she would not traumatize her daughter more than she already was, but she needed to get her point across.

"But you're my mother!"

The reply was so simple and obvious, and yet so unexpected that Irina just stood, stunned, and listened as Sydney continued her tirade. "We're two different persons from when we last saw each other, before the accident. You're more than all of this, as I'm more than a Literature student. I want to know the new you, or rather, the real you."

"But what if you don't like it?" Irina didn't care to show her weaknesses to her daughter. She knew Sydney wouldn't think less of her. They both needed the release and the trust.

"I know I will Mom. I'm not a six-year-old girl who cries when she falls and scratches her knee. I am not afraid of the monsters under the bed. I am an adult who deserves your respect as such. I'm old enough to make my own decisions, especially when they involve my future."

"But your father…" Irina pressed.

"Mom, I am not 'Daddy's girl' anymore. He won't miss me and I won't miss him."

"Whatever you think of him, everything he does he does it to protect you Sydney. He always had your best interests at heart."

"He pushed me away Mom. When I try to get closer, he pushes me further. It's too late. We're too far from each other now. He had me for twelve years and he wasted that time for the benefit of his work. You probably know me better than he does, yet you've only known me for two weeks."

Irina was distraught. Everything her daughter had said rang true. She wanted to hug her so much and never let go. She wished she could stop tormenting her daughter and herself but she had one last card to play. Then, she would be certain of whatever decision she reached.

"Sydney, when you were in Russia, didn't you think about him? You told me you were worried about him."

"Yes, I thought about him. I also thought about everything that I didn't get to do. I was scared Mom, I thought I was going to die. I wished he were there because he's my father. I also wished you, my mother, were there, before I knew you were right under my nose the whole time. And yes I was worried about him, because I saw what your death did to him." Sydney saw her mother wince.

"But I also worry about the kids I baby sit. I worry about Francie's parents. They're people who are in my life, so I worry about them, but it doesn't mean I'm not ready to let them go. If it means I get to be with you, I'm willing to let go of everything and everyone, Mom. Why can't you understand that?"

Irina felt tears prickle her eyes. Never had anyone made her such a declaration. It was heart breaking in its sincerity and purity. The first time she had felt this way was when her daughter had told her 'I love you, Mummy' after Irina scolded her for breaking a lamp in the house.

Her daughter was right, she knew. It was her turn to have Sydney now. She had a shot and it was her right to take it. Still, she needed Sydney's confession of love to make up her mind. Without that precious moment, she couldn't have had simply accepted Sydney's 'defection'. Despite what she had witnessed with her own eyes and what Sydney had told her, Irina knew Jack loved his daughter as much as she did. She remembered how it hurt not to have her daughter with her. She hadn't felt like doing this to him. However, Sydney had changed that. She made the decision for Irina, her own decision. After all, Sydney had the most to lose. She was vehement about living with Irina. She wouldn't back down an inch. If possible, she had given Irina more reasons to love her, not that she needed one. Sydney had her mother's unconditional love, always had had it, whether it was from a distance or not.

"Sweetheart, you're an amazing woman, you know that?" Sydney smiled and hugged her mother as tight as she could.

"Of course I know, and I have a pretty good idea of where it comes from."

Irina laughed softly in her daughter's hair. "One more thing, Sydney," she felt the young girl stiffen in her arms. "Do you have a preference?"

Sydney pulled back, confused. "A preference?"

"For our new home. Is there a country you favour?"

"France," blurted out Sydney, not sure why.

"Then France it is."

"Really? Just like that?"

"Yes, anything my daughter wants." Irina smiled, pulled Sydney's hair behind her ear, and looked into her face.

Sydney smiled. "I wish we could spend more time together but…"

"Your friend, I know. You should go. Soon we'll have all the time in the world, but for now you should make the best out of the time you have with your friend."

"Yeah. She truly is a great friend. She knows I'm lying to her but she didn't ask any questions. I already feel bad about leaving her…but I won't back out," she quickly added after seeing Irina's worried look. "I'm certain Mom, serious, trust me, I won't let you down."

"It's not about letting me down Sydney, it's about what you really want, in your heart."

"I want to be with you, period," reassured Sydney, kissing her mother's cheek. "Will you warn me?"

"Yes." Sydney didn't need to be more specific. As Irina had thought, her daughter feared she might wake up in a foreign country, France as it was decided, with no memory of leaving the US. "I promise you, I'll give you time to prepare yourself. And if you want to know something, you just have to ask."

"Okay."

"Go now." Irina kissed Sydney goodbye.

Irina had spent the last two days working on their departure from the US. She had it all figured out. Now that she had the destination, she needed to have a jet take Sydney and her from the Vancouver airport to Paris. After that, she would have to find a flat where they would settle. It had to be spacious, comfortable, and in the centre of Paris.

Money wasn't an issue: Irina, as every prominent agent, had gathered quite the retirement pension over the years. It didn't hurt to do some moon lighting, and in this business, the payoffs were high.

The card was missing. That's what Agent Maddox reported to Jack the day after his talk with Sydney. The flowers were still on the grave but the card wasn't. Someone took it. Maddox was certain it couldn't have flown away with the wind. Someone had come to the cemetery after Sydney and after the CIA agents.

Someone else other than the CIA was following Sydney. The question is, did she know it or not? It added up. Her answer hadn't satisfied him, it just didn't seem realistic. His theory was much more plausible. Really, why leave a message on a tombstone? It was a drop. Someone had picked it up. Jack needed to get that someone because Sydney would give him nothing. He was going to find that person and make her talk.

Sitting in his car, Jack Bristow was observing Agent Maddox and his colleague observing Sydney's car while she was attending her classes. Another team was inside with her, following her from room to room as discreetly as they could.

His gaze left the blue sedan to search the premises for another watcher. If Jack were looking for a professional, the person wouldn't be easy to find. He, or she, would probably act casually and blend in. However, Jack was smart, and experienced too. He himself had done this kind of work so he knew how those people reasoned. He knew the tricks to hide in plain sight, to be close to your mark without being noticed.

He proceeded to profile the person he was looking for. Sydney was a student. She was probably followed through her campus. Jack decided he was looking for a young woman in her twenties, pretty but not stunning. Pretty would allow her to go wherever she wanted without being questioned. She would stand out if stunning and people would remember her. She must possess a way of transportation, which didn't help Jack, as every student owned a car or a bike.

It struck Jack then, that despite their incompetence, the agents would have noticed a car following their mark all day. Even if the person had changed car, they would have seen and memorized the diver's face. His agents were on the look out for a suspect car, not a suspect motorbike. He contacted Maddox and ordered his team to run a check on all the motorcycles. The agent seemed annoyed, but didn't protest. He was talking to Jack Bristow.

One hour later, Maddox came to sit in his car, his laptop in hand.

"We found something, Sir."

"What is it?"

"Most of the vehicles we checked belong to professors or students. Actually, all their owners have a legit reason to be parked here."

"So what did you find?" Grumbled Jack, impatient.

"Three of the owners are students who registered within a month. One particular one got my attention. Chloé Sullivan. She moved here from New York one week ago. She's studying for a Bachelor's degree in Literature.

"It's her," firmly declared Jack. "Apprehend her discreetly. If she gets away, consider yourselves unemployed." He left the agent here and went to the office. He had some research to do. He wanted to know everything about this Chloé Sullivan before she was brought in. It was easier to interrogate someone you knew. You got more answers out of them and you could tell if they were telling the truth or not.

"Chloé Sullivan?"

The young woman turned around and found herself face to face with two men dressed in dark suits. She saw another one come behind her. She was trapped. She was not going anywhere but she could still pretend she didn't know why they were here.

"Yes? Who are you?"

"You're under arrest."

"Why? What for?"

"Please follow us quietly."

She complied and they put her in a black SUV. After a thirty-minute drive during which every occupant of the vehicle remained silent, the SUV entered an official looking government building. There were flags in the front entrance and a giant sign on the pavement. They took her to a guarded side entrance and from there to what she assumed was an interrogation room. She hoped her employer would get wind of her arrest and have time to run.

A salt and pepper haired man entered after them and motioned for the others to leave. She recognised him as Jack Bristow, a CIA agent. Her employer had told her not to get too close to the man while following the young girl, his daughter. The situation couldn't be any worse. She was so screwed.

"Whom are you working for?" It was the first thing out of Bristow's mouth.

Chloé sighed, expecting this line of questioning. She would have to answer, eventually. Derevko had told her what would happen if she were caught. They would get everything they wanted out of her, by whatever means they deemed necessary. She had to stall Bristow as long as possible, to give Derevko a chance to leave. Once the woman was out of the US, it wouldn't matter if they knew it was Derevko, who had hired Chloé to keep an eye on the girl. It wouldn't matter because by that time, Irina Derevko wouldn't exist anymore.

"Someone paid you to follow Sydney Bristow, I want to know who."

"The name sounds familiar, I think she's attending a few classes with me but I never spoke to her," replied Chloé, annoyed.

"I'm sure you didn't. We know you've been following her every move since she was released," continued the man.

"I don't know what you are talking about." It was the truth. What was he talking about release? She had only been there for a week. She had seen bruises on Sydney's face, but her employer never mentioned anything prior to when she had arrived.

"Yes?"

"It's I. The biker was apprehended."

"How long ago?"

"One hour."

"Thank you."

Irina hung up, livid. Time was running out.

TBC


	17. Chapter 16: Narrow escape

**COLLATERAL DAMAGE**

Eyghon 

**Author's notes:** Here is what I had planned since the beginning as the end of this story. Now, don't panic, it's not over yet. I really need to get this over with, as the finals are coming up, but I just can't. I knew I was 'addicted' to reading fiction but I certainly didn't expect to be 'addicted' to writing one! Many thanks to Lenafan for beta reading, for putting up with my incessant questions, and me. Sorry if the end sounds somewhat flimsy, but I was getting annoyed of of writing angst and I kind of like it that way.

**Chapter 16: Narrow escape****  
**  
"I will break you Miss Sullivan," promised Agent Bristow. "It's only a matter of time and I have lots of it," he added, finally leaving her alone. The man may think he had all the time in the world but he actually didn't. Soon Derevko would leave the United States and it would be safe for Chloé to tell them everything she knew. She was young; her record was clean. She had never planned spending her whole life running surveillance on people anyway. It was just an easy way to make big money fast. She was not a professional and if she played her cards right, she would never set foot in a prison.

For now, she needed to stall the CIA. She knew if she talked too soon Derevko would get back to her. If she didn't talk, she would end up in a bloody mess. When she had accepted the job, she knew there was a good chance she would be captured. She had been ordered not to resist. While the CIA had her in their custody, they would try to get information from her instead of questioning their own sources, who would have sold Chloé and Derevko out within one hour. Time was of the essence here, and the CIA was playing right into her hands…or Derevko's.

Chloé just had to give the CIA information piece by piece, enough to keep her out of harm's way but too little to compromise her boss's safety.

Irina knew she could count on Miss Sullivan's discretion but she still needed to speed things up. She wouldn't be able to give Sydney time to prepare herself. It was risky, because Sydney, too rushed, could get scared and refuse to come. Irina had no choice. It was up to Sydney now. It was a hard decision Irina was not sure Sydney had made peace with. Despite her protestations during their last conversations, Irina knew Sydney still loved her father. Her daughter would miss her friends at the very least. Irina hoped her rushing things wouldn't ruin everything.

Sydney and Francie were walking down Melrose Avenue. The CIA agents were far away enough so Francie wouldn't spot them, but they were still standing out: It was a street essentially composed of many boutiques specializing in clothes, thrift shops, and second-class art galleries. Not many men had the courage to be seen in this shopping district.

Sydney sighed. Soon she wouldn't have to worry about them anymore. It was probably the last time she would be shopping with her best friend.

Jack had found out a little more about the 'accident' Sydney had mentioned. He knew the Ukrainian authorities recovered several bodies from a car crash site in Kiev. Two cars had been set on fire before being pushed down into a ravine. The perpetrators probably hoped the vehicles would never be found. However, they were, along with four corpses.

It had taken a while to come back to Jack's attention, what with the Ukrainians being chummy with the Russians. The outcome of the next presidential elections in Ukraine could change a lot of things for the Americans, and the world in general. For now, it was all the Intel Jack would get. All the kidnappers were accounted for except one. No female body was among the dead. One of the kidnappers was still on the loose and Jack still didn't know what Sydney was hiding so fiercely.

"Excuse me, Miss?"

Sydney interrupted her chat with Francie to squint at a car that had slowed to her pace.

"Yes?"

"Could you tell me how to go to Robertson Boulevard from here?"

Sydney froze when she came within five feet of the driver, her mother. Why would Irina take the risk to approach her right under the nose of two CIA agents on foot? She took a deep breath. The men knew nothing about Irina. They couldn't even see her. For all they knew, she was just a lost tourist asking for directions. Sydney stepped off the sidewalk, Francie on her heels. She too had recognised the woman she had nicknamed 'the scary lady'. She wondered why Sydney was playing along. Maybe someone was watching them.

"Uh…sure."

She leaned in the car window, hoping she would be isolated enough to keep the CIA from listening in. Thankfully, Francie went to stand on her left, effectively blocking her from the view and earshot of the two suit-clad men.

"Something came up, it's now or never." Irina purposely kept her explanation cryptic. If Sydney refused, Francie would never know how close Sydney had come to abandon her.

"What? Why? What happened?"

Irina sighed, she didn't have time for this, but she would have to take it. "It's only a question of time before your father learns who I am. When it happens, it will be too late for us. I'm sorry I couldn't warn you before." She glanced anxiously at her rear view mirror. The agents were standing awkwardly a few meters behind, waiting for their target to start moving. It wasn't unusual in Los Angeles to see lost tourists asking for directions. The fact that Irina's Mercedes was registered in the state of Ohio helped to keep their suspicions at bay.

Sydney sighed, at a loss of what to do. It was so sudden. She hadn't expected to have to leave for another week. She discreetly looked over her friend's shoulder at the agents. They were getting restless.

"I'm coming with you," firmly declared Sydney.

Irina let out a relieved sigh. "Glad to hear it. We have to hurry but we must be discreet. We can't risk being chased…"

"Wait! What are you guys talking about?" Francie looked at her friend disbelieving and fearing she would finally know why Sydney was being so secretive.

"Now is neither the time nor the place," reminded Irina. "You two obviously need to talk. Go inside a café, make sure you aren't overheard." Then, gravely, she went on, "Sydney, if you still want to come with me, go to The Lavender Girl Boutique two blocks away. Go out through the back door, you'll find yourself in an alley leading to the main street. I'll wait for you there." It was the oldest trick in the book to shake off a tail but the CIA wouldn't expect it. "After fifteen minutes I'll be gone. You will never see or hear from me ever again."

Before Sydney could answer, Irina accelerated and was out of sight.

"Are you leaving with her? Is that what it's all about?"

Francie and Sydney were sitting in the back of a little café, stuck between a clothes boutique and a perfumery.

"Yes." What good would it do to lie to her friend now? Francie had it all figured it out already. She just wouldn't let herself see it.

"Why? What is so special about her?"

"For the first time in my life, I feel safe and loved with someone."

"What?" Francie sighed, knowing Sydney wouldn't answer her question, or even worse, would lie to her. "This is crazy. 'You' are crazy"

"Francie, please…Once I'm gone, I can never come back. I won't be able to contact you either." Sydney said sadly.

"Why? How is that possible? What happened?" She couldn't hold her questions anymore. She was losing her best friend, the closest thing she ever had to a sister.

"It's complicated. I'm sorry. It's been very hard to decide whether to leave all of this. But it's worth it, and I know I'll be happy with her."

"How can you be so sure? You barely know her, unless you lied about that too? And what do you mean loving her? What about me? Did you, for one second, think about what it would do to me to lose you?"

Sydney opened her mouth to talk but nothing came out. She had only envisioned how it would be to live with her mother and to leave her friends and family behind. She had never thought about the long run. How it would be not to have her best friend to confide in. How she would feel when not able to run to the same park she went to when she was little. How she would miss her father's rebuffs or shouts, which were annoying but which proved that he somehow cared, at least enough to waste his breath.

It dawned on her then, how selfish she had been in the process of deciding whether she would leave her life in the US. She hadn't really given much thought to others' feelings toward her. How would Francie feel? How would Mrs. Calfo, who considered Sydney as a part of the family, feel? How would her friends feel? And what about her father? She was so angry with him for ignoring her; she had never once considered that her decision, her disappearance, might hurt him. He was so good at hiding his emotions she had forgotten he could actually 'feel'. She didn't have time to think about him now. He had his chance and didn't take it. Maybe later she would rethink this.

"I thought so," Francie bitterly concluded before getting up and heading toward the exit.

"Fran, wait!" Sydney grabbed her arm, desperate. "It's probably the last time we'll see each other. I don't want to let things like this between us. I love you."

"Then stay!"

"I can't! I have nothing here! I mean…" Sydney sighed, frustrated. She couldn't tell Francie her family was more important than her best friend without telling her who the mysterious woman was. "I'm sorry. Of all the things I'll miss, it's you I'll truly regret leaving behind. I already miss you."

"Sydney…" Francie's voice broke; she had to let her go. "I love you too, and if it means I have to let you go, then so be it. I'm happy for you. I don't look like it, but if this is really what you want, then I'm happy."

"Thank you!" The two girls hugged. "Will you accompany me?" Sydney asked.

"Of course! Let's go!" Francie's enthusiasm was obviously forced but Sydney was glad her friend was trying to be supportive.

"I guess it's when we say goodbye and wish each other luck?" Asked Francie, standing in the alley behind The Lavender Girl Boutique.

"Yeah, I guess," quietly replied Sydney, nervously tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Forget what I said earlier, I don't want you to leave." Fran cried.

"But you want me to be happy."

"Yeah." Francie forced a smile. "Can't have both, huh?"

"Nope. Be there and be happy is not possible for me anymore. Not when I know I have something else, something more, waiting for me. Listen we would have had to split eventually. We would have had our boyfriends to take care of, our studies…"

"UCLA offers everything we need Sydney, and you know that. Didn't we say we would share a condo with our respective man and get to the same retirement home when we would be too old for movie night?"

Sydney chuckled, "it's not permanent you know, I said I couldn't come back but in a few years maybe…eventually."

"Syd, be realistic, from what I know, this chick you're so fond of is not American and she's trouble…"

"But you won't tell anyone I left with her," cut in Sydney, worried.

"No! Of course not! I promised you! Will you let me talk? What I mean is… going with her means you're some sort of accomplice, and with your father involved in this mess…just watch your back sister." Sydney nodded mutely, touched by the endearment. "Now go, before she leaves."

"Thank you Fran, thank you."

"You got it."

They hugged again, and Sydney turned around, heading to the end of the alley, where she could hear the cars passing on Santa Monica Boulevard. She sighed. She just left her best friend for her mother. She regretted not seeing her father today. She would have liked to say goodbye, though it couldn't have included actually saying goodbye, or hugging him, or even kissing him, but still, in her head, she could have tried to make peace with herself.

"You were hired by a Russian woman, I want to know her name," repeated Jack for the hundredth time. His prisoner remained unfazed. It was odd. Jack was a master interrogator, and his prisoner, by her young age, at first seemed like an easy target. Still, she was not cracking. Instead, was content by asking for a lawyer.

"There are no such things as lawyers in this place Miss Sullivan. You have been arrested under the Patriot Act"

"What? No one read me my rights!" Protested Chloé, feeling the trap closing in on her. Soon she would have to start talking or the grey haired man facing her would lose his cool and send her to a place she'd rather not see. Miss Derevko had warned her against the danger she would put herself into by accepting to work for her. It wasn't about spying on a cheating husband. It was about spying on a student and report her every move. It was about spying without being spied on by said student's watchdogs. Watch dogs that happened to be on the good side of the law, broadly speaking.

"If there are no lawyers, what is the point in having rights, Miss Sullivan?" Taunted Bristow, putting himself less than an inch from her face.

"Good point. Okay, I don't know her name, I swear. I never saw her, only talked by phone."

"What does she want with Sydney Bristow?"

"I don't know, she just said to keep an eye on her."

"In what way?"

"I don't know! Look, I got paid the big bucks to basically walk behind someone all day long, period."

Jack made no comment on whether he was satisfied with her answer or not when he finally left her alone in the interrogation room.

Sydney took a deep breath and stopped. The sound of the cars passing on the street was overwhelming now. She was just out of sight of her mother. One more step and she would be giving up her home, her identity, her life, as she knew it.

She was walking into the unknown but with her mother. She forced herself to see only that last part. That reassuring presence, who alone could drive away the fear of nothingness.

The Mercedes door was pushed open from the inside. Sydney grabbed the door and took a last look around her before climbing into the passenger seat.

"Are you sure?" Gently asked Irina, fixing her daughter with a stare.

Sydney nodded wordlessly, smiling. Irina pulled away from the curb and off they went, to LAX.

Francie had gone back into the boutique, pretending to look at clothes. She was in the back, in the lingerie section. The people following Sydney, whoever they were, would never dare to check on her as long as Francie remained in here. LAX wasn't too far from here. In the past, they had spent whole afternoons in boutiques. The men wouldn't worry if they didn't come out for a while.

"You still have time to back out and pretend nothing ever happened. I wouldn't hold you to it"

"Mom, I made my decision, and I will respect it," firmly stated Sydney.

"I can still take you back. I just wanted you to know."

"I know. Thanks for worrying, but please, stop trying to make me change my mind."

"I'm not…" Irina sighed. "I'm just not sure you realise what it entails…"

"Oh not again!" Sydney groaned.

"Yes, again, and you will listen to me, again," scolded Irina, and stopped dead. Sydney was laughing. Irina threw her a death glare, making her laugh even louder.

"Sorry…hum" Sydney was trying to get her composure back, and explain the reasons why she burst out laughing. "It's just, we've been there like ten minutes and we're already playing mother/daughter. I love it." Irina smiled too. "I know Mom, I heard you the first hundred times. By going with you, I know what I'm throwing away. But what I will gain will be worth it."

"Are you sure of that," gently asked her mother. "Do you realise that if you had dreamt, your whole life, of a typical American wedding with all your friends and family by your side, you can forget it? Your father won't walk you down the aisle Sydney, and Miss Calfo won't be your maid of honour."

"Mom! Why are you talking about marriage?" Sydney was stunned. What the hell did it have to do with the problem at hand?

"Well, doesn't every little girl dream of the day of her marriage?" Asked Irina, puzzled.

"No! Mom for God's sake we're in the 21st Century, wake up!"

"Don't talk to me like I'm senile please, because I'm not."

"I know, you just live in another age," sniggered Sydney.

Irina elbowed her daughter, prompting her to whine, "Hey, no hitting the driver!"

"You're not driving, 'I' am!" Replied Irina.

"Well, it works both ways. The driver must not be hit and must not hit, period."

They were at a red light, watching the world, or at least the city, move around them. Both women were invisible to the pedestrians, thanks to the tinted windows. It allowed them to watch without being seen. To scrutinize the people walking by, minding their usual business, unsuspecting of what was about to happen. Tomorrow, they would still be unsuspecting, and yet, many lives would have changed. Irina's, Sydney's, Francie's, but especially Jack's

"There's no coming back Sydney. Not without dire consequences."

"Hit the gas."

TBC


	18. Chapter 17: Bienvenue à Paris

COLLATERAL DAMAGE

Eyghon

**Author's notes:** This chapter is kind of France centric, still, there is a lot of 'action' going on so you can't skip it or you'll be lost. I just couldn't help myself. There are so many things you Americans don't know about France. We French know lots of things about the US.  
A little detail, I don't know how it works for you, wherever you are, but in France, you have to start learning English at ten. I've been doing that for eight years now so I like to think I understand it perfectly. I imagine Sydney understands French as much as I do English.  
Everything in here comes from my experiences, my thoughts, and my different visits in Paris. It is as such, quite realistic. Some telling of events might seem harsh, so bear in mind that it is MY personal judgment over things.

**Chapter 17: Bienvenue à Paris**

France was indeed the perfect hideout, Irina decided. Paris was such a big city and new people blended in without notice. She herself could speak fluent French without being identified as a Russian or an American. Sydney couldn't, her American accent was actually quite horrible, but she understood very well when talked to, and enjoyed watching TV and reading all she could everywhere. So blending in this crowded city, even when being a foreigner, was quite an easy task and an added bonus. In case of an emergency, they could easily take a flight to anywhere in the world from the Roissy Charles De Gaulle Airport. They could also discreetly sneak into England by riding the Eurostar or taking a Ferry.

France was directly connected to Spain, Italy, Switzerland, Germany, Belgium, and Luxembourg. Irina and Sydney could enter each of those countries by car or train with a simple fake ID card that was easy to procure. The beauty of Europe was that you didn't need a passport, which was harder to counterfeit, and that you weren't thoroughly controlled at the 'borders'. Irina had calculated that from Paris you could go anywhere in France or enter a neighbouring country in less than nine hours, by car. France was the size of a US state and its capital was swarming with foreigners from eastern countries and tourists.

Sydney watched as the taxi deftly made its way through the heavy Parisian traffic. No matter how hard she looked around her, she couldn't find a single car without a bump or a scratch on it. Paris had a really odd way of functioning. Apparently, when a traffic light turned red, it meant two to four cars could pass afterwards. Signaling a turn was unheard of and letting the pedestrians cross the street when they had a green light was just unthinkable. Even the city bus drivers and garbage men drove like mad men. Horns honked everywhere incessantly; the only solace being that the taxis drivers had a special lane that they shared with the city buses…when a delivery truck wasn't blocking it. Tens of scooters, motorcycles, and bicycles passed from lane to lane, coming within inches of cars, trucks, and buses' bumpers. It was chaos.

Sydney was astonished by the swarming traffic. She turned toward her mother who smiled, knowing what she was thinking.

"French are brutes behind a wheel, but Parisians are literally barbaric."

Sydney nodded, approving. The taxi had picked them up from Roissy Charles de Gaulle Airport thirty minutes ago. It was taking them to an apartment Irina owned, 'Rue de l'Estrapade', in the 5th arrondissement of Paris, also known as the 'Quartier Latin'.

The next day, Irina took her daughter to do some shopping. Settling in their comfortable two-bedroom apartment and they were only missing clothes and accessories. The shopping was fun as Irina let her daughter buy anything she wanted.

Sydney decided to learn a little more about the dynamics of her new country. She knew nothing about Paris other than it was the capital of France and one of the most beautiful cities in the world.

The currency was the Euro…that she already knew, but that was about it. Connecting to the internet, she went on Google and started her research. After two hours, she came up with the most recent events in France. They had organised and won the football World Cup in 1998 against Brazil, beating the Brazilians 3-0. Sydney didn't really care, not being a fan of sports. She was more interested in the politics of the country.

Jacques Chirac was President and he was in his second term; the next elections were in 2007. He was the Chief of State but his Prime Minister, for now Jean-Pierre Raffarin, was the chief of the government. He was criticised by many but still stayed in place, for now.

Paris and France in general were peopled by many different nationalities from all over the world. Its diversity was the cause of a major crisis in 2002, for the Presidential elections, Sydney learned. After the first ballot, two candidates had remained and it was not those expected. The PM then, Lionel Jospin, had been humiliated. Sydney smirked, reading what was next. That must have hurt, she understood why the guy had retired from any political activity. A 'fascist' candidate whose slogan was "France belongs to French people" had beaten him. Understand "let's get rid of all the non white people." The man's name was Jean-Marie Le Pen, from the 'Front National' party. He was voted in right behind the President, Jacques Chirac.

It was a shock for France, and to add to that, the loser, the prime minister, had resigned. The 20 score of Le Pen was like a wake up call, a slap in the face. People were in shock, scandalized, and yet, more than one-fifth of them had voted for him. Some said 9/11 had something to do with most people's choice. Others said people had voted for him, never thinking he stood the slightest chance. People had been wrong and were now facing an awkward choice for the second ballot: A man who was taking after Hitler or the sitting President.

The second ballot got more voters than ever before. Ashamed, panicked, abstentions voted, so did the younger generation, usually uninterested by the elections. Chirac was re-elected 'by default'.

Sydney had stopped there, enough politics for now. Pacing in the spacious living room, she found an interesting article in the newspaper 'Le Figaro'. It was a brief portrait of the mayor of Paris, Bertrand Delanoé. He is the first politician publicly to announce his homosexuality, which he did in 1999, right before the city elections. He was stabbed by a mad man in October of 2002, but recovered. The assailant motives were still unclear: political, homophobic…

So much for politics and Sydney grunted, bored.

"Sydney, do you want to tour the city?"

"What?"

"Well, you've never been to Paris, right?"

"Yeah, Actually, I never left the US…except when you took me to Russia through France, but that doesn't really count."

Irina flinched. She hated the mere mention of that time, three weeks ago when she had assaulted her daughter in a parking garage and kidnapped her. "Well, then I'll take you to do some sight seeing. Since we're here, it would be a shame not to play tourist, there are so many things to see!"

There was a lot to see in the Capital itself. The 'Panthéon' where were buried all the important people especially caught her attention. She asked her mother to take her and Irina complied immediately, happy to share an interest with her daughter: Both fans of literature, they were interested in the many writers who had been laid to rest in the Panthéon.

They stopped for lunch in a beautifully decorated restaurant and went to the 'Eiffel Tower', an attraction that every tourist and Frenchman ought to visit. They decided to take the stairs, which was more fun than riding one of the elevators. The sights were simply breath taking; you could see kilometers around. Irina pointed out to her the main things to notice: The Panthéon, the Boulevard des Invalides. The tour in itself was impressive but was even more beautiful at night when it was lit up. The women had stuck around especially to watch it after the sun had fallen.

The next day was devoted to the 'Musée du Louvre' and the 'Cathédrale Notre Dame'. This time they ate in a little café facing the river Seine and took a taxi to the 'Place Vendôme'. It was the most practical way of transportation since it was nearly impossible to park anywhere in the busy city, save for the underground parking garage, but Irina preferred to avoid those in the presence of her daughter. The Place was practically deserted, a normal occurrence, assured Irina. It was surrounded on all sides by sumptuous jewelry boutiques, exposing a few items in their window. Next, Irina showed Sydney the less tourist 'sights' of the capital, starting with the most prestigious palaces: the Henri IV, the Hilton, the Plaza Athénée, the Ritz, the Bel Ami, the 'Hôtel du Louvre', and the Four Seasons - Georges V…' They choose to devote a whole afternoon the following day to the 'bouquinistes' bordering the Seine: you could buy old books, paintings, and various items directly in the street, along the river Seine. It was a busy street; many people enjoyed walking along the little displays and just look.

Jack was fuming. His daughter had disappeared right under the noise of four fully trained CIA agents. Francine Calfo pretended to know nothing but she was lying. He was frustrated to no end by the young girl. He couldn't make her talk. Even using of his influence, he couldn't get to her as she was underage.

He could do nothing. Chloé Sullivan couldn't identify who had hired her. All Jack knew was that it was a woman, and he wasn't even sure she was the person behind the kidnapping and the disappearance. For all he knew, she was a mere hired gun, just like Miss Sullivan, and someone unknown was above them all.

Someone was out there with his daughter. Someone smart enough to evade the CIA and take Sydney in broad daylight in plain sight. The cameras around Melrose Avenue had been disabled long before Sydney and her friend had gotten here. A professional job. Sydney must have gone willingly there was no other explanation. But why? With who? Who made her feel safe enough that she would leave everything behind and go with them?

He was missing something but could not put his finger on it.

The fifth day of her arrival, Sydney faced a major disappointment. She sighed; 'l'Avenue des Champs Elysées' was so overrated! Okay it was a large and long avenue, and there were lots of traffic and shops…but it was not any prettier than anywhere else was. Plus, there were dog's poops and butts of cigarettes littering the sidewalk. There were trash and smelly stuff piled against the walls.

The 'Arc de Triomphe', situated at the end of the avenue lifted her spirits. The climb up the stairs had been worth it; the sight from up there was wonderful. It was windy but you could see the main streets surrounding the place, as if you were at the centre of a star. Hence the name 'Place de l'Etoile' (étoile star), she thought. When they came back down, they stopped at the grave of the 'Soldat Inconnu', beneath the arch. It had been created in honour of the men fallen during WWI. There were always flowers laid beside the 'flamme sacrée' (sacred flame), which was burning since 1923. The whole thing had become a national symbol, honoured during Republican manifestations.

Irina Derevko would always remember this day, 29th May 2005. She was preparing breakfast. Sydney entered the kitchen, a nervous smile on her lips. She handed a wrapped box to Irina and kissed her on the cheek. "Bonne fête Maman." Irina stood there, frozen, the precious little box in her hands. The last Sunday of May was Mother's Day in France. Her daughter had bought her a gift, for Mother's Day! She was moved beyond saying. The last gift she had received was a plaster handprint of her six-year-old daughter, on May 9, 1993, Mother's Day in the US.

Thinking along the same lines, Sydney nodded encouragingly, "I promise it's not a purple plaster handprint."

"I loved that handprint," replied Irina, crying.

"I know. I think you'll like that better."

Irina carefully opened the package to reveal a box of sweets.

"It's called Mentchikoffs. It's not really Russian but…"

"Thank you." Irina hugged Sydney fiercely and kissed her four times, touched by the gesture.

"You know those chocolates? Cuz I wasn't sure…"

"I do. Chocolate and meringue. Invented in the end of the 19th Century. They are the symbol of the Franco/Russian rapprochement. Here, let's have one."

Irina was overwhelmed by emotions. This was so sweet of Sydney not only to buy her a gift on Mother's Day, but also to take in consideration her Russian origin in the choice of the gift. Sydney had really done well by herself.

Setting 'le Figaro' down, Sydney turned off the light and tried to sleep. Three months had gone by since her arrival in France. She preferred to refer to it as this, not as her 'departure from the US'. It made it less painful that way.

Her mother and she had settled in a quiet routine. They would curl up in the sofa of the living room and read for hours. In the afternoon, they would talk and watch TV until dinnertime. They would go out in a restaurant or Irina would cook if she were in the mood. She was happy to get a chance to teach something to her daughter, who had a serious lack of cooking abilities.

In the beginning, their daytime activities had kept Sydney's mind off things and her exhaustion had lulled her into a peaceful sleep at night. Now that she didn't have anything to do all day but watch TV and pace around the apartment, sleep was eluding her.

Eventually, she would find sleep, but with it would come the nightmares. Today was no exception. She woke up screaming, drenched in sweat and gasping for the breath Nikolai had taken away when he was strangling her. Her mother was already by her side, having heard her screams long before Sydney had even realised it was she who was screaming. Irina felt guilty for causing those nightmares. In her turn, Sydney felt guilty for not being able to handle her kidnapping, torture, and subsequent captivity better. Her nightmares caused anguish to her mother, even if Irina tried not to show it.

"I love you."

"I love you too, Mom. Good night."

"Good night," sighed Irina, getting back to bed. Again, Sydney had had a nightmare and had refused to let her mother stay until she fell asleep. She didn't want to deprive her mother of sleep, she said. What she didn't know was that Irina hovered near the door and listen until she knew Sydney was asleep.

"You know, maybe we could get away from Paris for a few days," suggested Irina the next day.

"Really? To go where?" asked Sydney, excited at the prospect of seeing more of France.

"I have a younger sister, Elena. She lives in Nancy, in the north east of France. She had twins, boys, who are now about your age I think."

"Seriously? That's so great! I have no family on Dad's side, except for Dad's sister, who is not a favourite. She's much older than Dad. So we could visit them?"

Irina was surprised Sydney was even remotely interested in meeting more of her family. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah!" Replied Sydney, as if it was blatantly obvious. "Of course! Katya seemed nice enough; I'd like to meet my other aunt and cousins." She added teasingly, "don't you want to show me off?"

Irina grinned, "I would love for you to meet them all."

Two days later, Irina had made the arrangements. Elena Derevko had divorced her husband, Alexandre five years before. The boys had just left for Morocco to spend some time with their father, who had been transferred in Agadir by his firm. Elena had three weeks by herself and was happy to welcome her older sister and her daughter, whom she had never met.

To Irina's dismay, their destination, Nancy (near the German border), was not yet served by a TGV ('Train à Grande Vitesse', understand 'fast going train') so Sydney and she would have to sit in a regular train for 2h45. They packed and left from 'Paris Est' station at 7h44. They would arrive in 'Nancy ville' station at 10h28. There were other timetables available later in the day but Irina wanted to ride in the brand new 'Corail Téoz', comfortable and faster than the mere 'Corail'.

The French rail system was organised like a star, with Paris in its centre. There were four major stations: 'Paris Est' served the eastern cities, 'Paris Montparnasse 1 et 2' the western ones, 'Paris gare du Nord' the northern ones and 'Paris gare de Lyon' the southern ones.

All the railways in France were property of the SNCF (Societé Nationale des Chemins de fer Français). It was a state owned society, and accidents were rare.

Sydney and Irina stepped out of the train and went to fetch their rental car at Avis.

"A BMW? Way to go Mom!" teased Sydney when the desk clerk handed her mother the car keys with the brand logo on it.

"Money is not an issue," replied Irina evasively before putting the car in gear. She deftly launched herself into mid-morning traffic. They drove smoothly toward the suburbs, passing fewer and fewer trucks, cars, cabs, buses and tramways as they neared their destination.

"Here we are," announced Irina as she slowly parked on the sidewalk in front of a two-story house.

"That's your sister's house? It looks so…normal."

Irina smiled, "That's how she has always wanted it. A quiet, peaceful family life. A nice house in the suburbs with husband and kids to put in. Nothing to do with Katya's lifestyle in Italy. She takes care of the house and the garden by herself, something you two have in common, right?"

"Yeah," replied Sydney, not surprised her mother knew things she wasn't supposed to. "Dad is never home, he hired a housekeeper to do the major cleaning and the laundry, but the garden is my domain…like it was yours when I was little. I'm the one who fixes the things that need fixing like unblock the lavabo (WHAT IS THIS?), clean up the backyard…what a man would do in his house. I also do the shopping and the cooking. I don't mind. A question of habit I guess."

"You've grown up into a wonderful young woman Sydney. I couldn't have hoped for you to turn out any better. I'm so proud of you." Irina smiled and stroked her daughter's cheek.

Sydney blushed slightly, as she always did when receiving a compliment from her mother. "Let's ring the bell."

Elena welcomed them warmly and was more than thrilled to quiz Sydney about her life. She seemed like a very nice person and Sydney was glad to have her as her aunt. She answered every question and Elena wasn't the only one. Sydney noted Irina was also very attentive to the littlest of details she revealed about her life. They both still had so much to learn from and about each other.

"I couldn't help but notice that all the houses around look very similar but yours is different, bigger," observed Sydney, as she carefully observed the neighbour's house from her seat in the living room.

"Yes, this whole street is part of a subdivision, with the street below it. All houses were built by the same contractor on the same model over twenty years ago. We had the upper left floor added when Nicolas and Anthony turned ten so they would have their own space. It was becoming too crowded on the main floor."

Sydney nodded, "What names are those, Nicolas and Anthony? I thought you were Russian."

"I am. But my husband was French, and I didn't want my children to stand out because of a Russian name. I left Russia when Irina entered the KGB. I didn't want to be recruited so I left before they could ask. I hid in France and prayed they wouldn't bother to try and find me. They didn't."

"But even if they had asked, you could have just declined, why bother coming all the way here?"

Elena sighed, Sydney was about to apologize for being so intrusive but Elena held up her hand.

"You don't say no to the KGB, Sydney. Katya didn't follow my example, she got recruited. Like Irina, she didn't mind, she wanted to see the world. By the time the USSR collapsed, she knew what was really going on in the KGB. She took the opportunity to disappear, get away from Russia. She settled in Italy and made her way in the finance world. Her experience with the KGB helped. She's a shark in business!"

Sydney chuckled, not doubting her aunt's assessment of the spiky haired woman she had met a few months ago. Elena eventually answered her question. "Now, about my boys, 'Nicolas' is French for Nikolai and Anthony was named after my father, Anatoly. Were you named after the city?"

Sydney smiled and looked over at her mother, "I never got the opportunity to ask. Mom?"

Irina smiled fondly at the memory, and if she did not know better, Sydney could have sworn her mother looked embarrassed.

"Yes, you were named after the Australian city, sweetheart, because you were conceived there."

"What!" Never in her wildest dreams had Sydney dreamt of such a moment, in which she would learn the origin of her name was connected with her conception. The first reaction that came to mind what 'Yuck'! She voiced it that way: "Are you telling me that you named me Sydney so each time you would call my name you would remember your great night of sex!"

Irina and Elena chuckled, the latter as curious as Sydney to hear her big sister's side of the story. "First, I never said it was night, second, we named you Sydney because we loved the city. It was in 1986, (N/A: Don't forget this fic is an AU) we were already married then. We were actually celebrating our five-year anniversary. Jack had managed to get away from the office for the week-end. We walked along the beach, made love…I had never seen Jack so relaxed."

Sydney smiled, moved. She could feel the longing in her mother's voice but didn't comment on it. Elena, probably feeling it too, changed the subject, "would you like to see the garden?"

"Yeah, sure," replied Sydney cheerfully.

They went through the French doors onto the terrace. "We eat outside when the weather allows it. Usually from April to September, but in summer it's too hot sometimes," explained Elena, leading them around the pond to the green grass.

"Wow, it's beautiful, and so big!" Sydney was in awe, thinking of her little bushed of roses compared to those massive flowerbeds.

"The advantage of being on the corner. I enjoy gardening, I think your mother mentioned you do too?"

"Yeah, I got it from her I think. When I was little, she was just crazy about her flowers. I could do anything and she would never yell at me, but if I were to throw a ball in her begonias or something, she would get real mad." Sydney and Irina both smiled at the shared memory. There were so few. For the little girl, there was nothing scarier than to have her mother stare at her without uttering a word. It meant trouble and afterwards, she would always try to make it up to her mother by drawing a picture of flowers. It always worked. Irina…Laura could never stay mad at her sweet angel for too long.

"You two can stay as long as you want here," smiled Elena as they ate dinner two days after they had arrived in Nancy. "Although you might want to make it back to Paris for the 14th."

"Why? What happens on the 14th?" asked Sydney.

"You don't know what represents the 14th of July? You're majoring in literature, right?"

Sydney shrugged, "Yeah, I know, it's a national holiday, huh…Bastille Day, right? Nobody works, all stores are closed…"

"Sweetheart, it's more than that!" explained Elena.

"Oh!"

"The whole country celebrates with fireworks and such, but Paris is the city that receives the most attention. All national TV channels broadcast on live. The President attends a gigantic ceremony with other officials. There is a parade; all the law enforcement forces are represented, on foot, on bikes, on horses, in cars or even in the sky with the aerial parade. The Eiffel Tower is especially decorated and there are amazing fireworks near the Eiffel Tower in the evening. You'd love to see it, it's very impressive."

"Sounds like it. Can we go Mom?"

"Of course sweetheart. I personally never attended one of those but I'd love to."

Something was bothering Sydney, Irina could tell. She didn't know whether she should ask what or not. In the few months they had lived together, Irina had learned to see when Sydney was angry, sad, regretful, or when she was lying. She had scolded, comforted, and confronted her on multiple occasions. Sydney was open-minded but if she didn't want to talk about something on her mind, there was no making her change her mind. Sighing, Irina decided she might as well get it over with now, or she would keep imagining the worst of things that could bother her daughter so much.

"Sydney, are you okay?"

"I want to ask you something."

If Sydney was so eager to talk without being probed, Irina was in trouble. Readying herself for anything, she replied, "go ahead."

"Why didn't you come back?" This left Irina puzzled. "You told me why you left, because of that guy in the park who threatened to kill me, but why not come back afterwards when the KGB was destroyed? Katya ran away from her job and started a new life when the USSR fell. After leaving us, you could have come back, the Russians wouldn't have noticed. Why going to work for the new KGB?"

After a long hesitation, she couldn't help but correct Sydney. "It's called SVR." She sighed. It was a legitimate question, one she should have expected. One she had expected, yet, couldn't answer.

"Mom?"

"It's…" She was about to say 'complicated' but knew how it upset her daughter, so she tried to explain as best as she could. "I loved your father. I betrayed him. I betrayed our marriage, his trust…everything he believed in. I couldn't come back to him. He would have had me imprisoned."

"But how can you be sure? Maybe he still loved you, maybe he still does. He never dated you know."

Irina smiled. Despite her intelligence, her daughter could be so naïve sometimes. "I probably disgusted him for other women. I destroyed his love, that's why he was so distant with you, after."

"But you could have made contact with me, I wouldn't have said anything," accused Sydney.

"Sydney, I wanted nothing more than to come back to you and Jack, to make everything better, like it was before, but I couldn't. After the USSR fell in 1991, I thought I was free. It took two years for the crumbs of the KGB to reform into the SVR. In 1993, they were in place. It was they who had sent the man from the park. They were calling me back, as all the other Russian operatives left behind by the KGB disappearance. I was forced to work for them; I had no choice. They knew everything about me, about my American family. Many agents from the KGB had joined the SVR and reported me. If I hadn't joined them, they would have hurt you both."

Sydney stood, frozen. The explanation she had wanted since she knew her mother was alive was not what she had expected. It was not her fault. Irina had done nothing wrong. She loved them; she had wanted to come back. She felt guilty for doubting her mother's intentions of the time. Stupid too, because her mother loved her, there was no reason to doubt her. She stepped forward and they hugged.

At dinner that night, they talked about everything but Sydney's 'past life'. She chose to keep that between herself and her mother so Elena didn't probe.

"So, where are you going this summer?"

"What do you mean?" asked Irina, puzzled.

"Well, aren't you going to go somewhere for the summer vacation? You don't have to go abroad; there are beautiful regions to see in France itself."

"We'll have to think about it. We have time, Sydney's class finish in June and the next year starts mid-October."

"Most French leave in August. Even more so now, since the heat wave."

"What heat wave?" asked Sydney, her puzzled expression mirrored by Irina's?

"A heat wave struck Europe in the summer of 2003. It killed 27.000 people. You never heard of it?" Elena was frowning. It was a major disaster; surely, they would have talked about it over the other side of the Atlantic.

"Yes, I remember reading something about it…France was the hardest hit I believe?" Irina said.

"Correct. It was around 40°C (104°F) in the shade and the heat caused the pollution rate to rise. In Paris, the mix was deadly. There were 12.000 dead within ten days. The hospitals and morgues were full. Dead people were found in their homes or in hotels, died in the hospitals or in their retirement homes. Sick people collapsed in the streets.

"Everyday the media announced new numbers. It started with three digits the number of dead by day but it soon became a minimum of 1.000 a day. Around the 12th, it went up to more than 2.000 a day. On the 13th, the official toll from the Ministry of Health said 3.000 victims since the 4th. It was 12.000. By the end of August, they counted 14.802 victims of the heat wave. The numbers had been wrong because it had started 'before' the 4th of August, without anyone noticing that too many people were dying for the season.

"How can something so big happen without anyone noticing? And how come we haven't heard of it?" Sydney was shocked. So France too had had its tragedy.

"Heat waves are very rare in Europe, I believe the last one was in 1983 and there were less than 800 victims. Nobody saw it coming, Sydney, nobody could do anything. They said they ran out of places to put the bodies and the sick. It was chaos. As I told you, most of the French take their vacation in the first two weeks of August. So does the medical profession and the government. Most politicians were abroad at the time. The whole country was asleep. There were not enough doctors here and no one with the authority to call the others back home to help. Like they said, hundreds of dead people turned up everyday but nobody realised how bad it was. The authorities were taken by surprise; they weren't prepared to respond to that kind of disaster.

"That's crazy! I hope they learned their lesson?"

"The reports are rather pessimistic. A public holiday in May is now a workday, and the money goes to the old people, but…they tried that before with a mandatory yearly taxed sticker for cars. No one really knows where the money went. They have more people working in the hospitals, and more beds available.

"But how come I haven't heard of it? I mean, the world knows Bush almost choked to death on a pretzel, you know...And it's worse than 9/11! It would have never happened in the US."

Irina smiled. "You Americans are so arrogant!" She answered for her sister, "it's not the same, Sydney. You can't compare by counting the dead. It doesn't work that way. And France is not all that bad. People make mistakes. The French government failed to handle that crisis properly, but the American government too has failures.

Different countries have different identities, different visions of things and different priorities. France did not go to Iraq, Italy did, Great Britain did, and the US did. In France, there are very well developed social, medical, and educational systems. Each is available to anybody, with or without insurance. School is mandatory for children below the age of sixteen to ensure they have a minimal education. There are many other things you will discover as time goes by. You can't just look on the internet, watch TV or base your opinions on hearsays to judge a country or a people you are not a part of."

"How do you two know all that stuff?"

"I've been leaving here for more than twenty years, I had time to learn the French ways. I even have the double nationality."

"Really? So you're what? Franco-Russian?"

"Yes."

"Is it true you guys, the French, are anti-Americans?"

"Not exactly. French, like a good part of Europe, are not 'anti Americans' per say. They are more 'anti Bush' than anything else. They don't understand how the American people could re-elect Bush, just like you can't understand why we, the French, refused the European Constitution."

"You voted 'Yes' or 'No'?"

"A vote is secret; it is usually bad taste to talk about it, among family or friends. For the Presidential elections that is. Now, with the vote for the European Constitution, the debate was all over the place. I voted 'No' and the 'No' won. Now we're still waiting to see what happens next. It's been one month. Nothing have changed so far, despite the Prime Minister being ejected."

"Politics," muttered Irina. "For me the knowledge of other countries' dynamics just comes with the job. I travel a lot, read a lot. The more you know about the country you're supposedly coming from, the better. My job often requires me to pretend to be someone I'm not. It included nationalities. I've pretended to be French before. Better to know French history to make conversation, don't you think?"

"Yeah, I guess that holds. So you know everything about every country of the world?"

"No! I just know the dynamics and major events. This heat wave was of major influence in the politics of France, it also affected economy so I got interested."

"So I'm the only one that feels out of place in here? I mean, we've been here for more than three months and yet it seems so foreign still!" complained Sydney.

"It's normal, it will subside eventually."

"Yeah…but I still don't get it: everybody talks about 9/11 and the tsunami; they consider it normal topic of conversation, so…why be so shy and secretive about the European heat wave?"

Irina sighed. "Many foreigners didn't even hear about it. I don't know why. It was a vacation time for everyone and a lot of people think only people above the age of eighty five died so they don't care much."

"Gee, not a good point for us either, huh? It says a lot about the French mentalities too."

"You can't judge them on that alone Sydney," cut in Elena. "Who said the US would be able to do better if they were struck by a heat wave?" She sighed. "From what I heard, the doctors tried to tell them, the people responsible, to warn them, but there was nobody to listen.

After it was over, at the end of August, people started pointing the finger at their government. They believed it could have been avoided if the Ministry of Health had done its job. The government and other public services tried to cover their blatant incompetence by denying the high tolls and by pointing the finger at each other.

Eventually the funeral home's reports set the ugly truth. There had been 13.000 additional dead in comparison to the death toll of an average summer. The head of the department of health resigned. I'm sure he was merely a scapegoat. The people and the officials wanted someone to blame. They got him and the Minister of Health stayed in office. People moved on and simply were more careful with their drinking habits the next summer.

It wasn't affecting only the old people. It struck randomly. Some victims were men and women who weren't even fifty. I knew someone, a gynecologist. He delivered my children twenty years ago. He died of a heart attack that summer, and he wasn't even suspected of having a cardiac problem. But nobody talks about the people like him."

"That's so sad," murmured Sydney.

"Yes, let's change the subject Elena, Sydney already has a bad enough opinion of this country and I don't plan on moving again anytime soon so let's not scare her away," half joked Irina.

In the morning, a loud siren awakened Sydney. Puzzled and slightly worried, she went in search of her mother but found her aunt instead. Elena was in the kitchen, cooking lunch as if nothing was happening. She smiled, seeing her niece's confused look.

"I thought it would wake you up. Don't worry, its normal."

"What was it?" Asked Sydney, still worried by the annoyingly loud sound.

"It's a siren."

"Yeah I got that, thank you," smirked Sydney, still not getting an explanation.

"They have those in every city, on firehouses and major buildings. It rings on and off every first Wednesday of the month at 12 o'clock for three minutes, I believe. You get used to it; most people don't even hear it after a while."

"Why would they do something so stupid as to ring a damn bell every month at noon?"

"It's not a bell; it's a siren. They're checking if they work! If you hear it any other time than the first Wednesday of the month, it means trouble. Don't you have that in the US?"

Sydney shrugged. "Trouble? What kind of trouble?"

Elena shrugged, "A few years ago, it was seen as a means to warn people in case of a nuclear accident. In the past, it was used to warn people about aerial bombings. Today…who knows? It could be for a biological or chemical terrorist attack, a radioactive cloud like with Chernobyl or lots of other horrible things…basically it means run and hide."

"So it's a good thing then?"

"Not really. It didn't ring for Chernobyl. The Ukrainian authorities tried to hide it and no one knew until well after the radioactive cloud had passed over France. It was in April of 1986, I was pregnant with the twins, and being so close to the east border, I was worried. Today, some people claim their cancer comes from Chernobyl; some are right and proved it. One year after the accident, laws were voted guarantying the public would be informed if such a thing happened again. A few months ago, several sirens in Nancy were accidentally activated at two in the morning. It was scary enough that the sleeping people who were within earshot of the sirens went out in the street in their PJ's. With all that's going on today, they thought it was war."

They made small talk until Sydney bluntly asked her aunt to tell her about Irina as a child. The woman hesitated but gave in, happy to share old memories with her estranged niece.

Sydney and Irina were back in Paris for the 'Défilé du 14 Juillet'. They had come home the day before after promising Elena they would visit again soon to meet Nicolas and Anthony. This trip had delighted Sydney to no end. With some insight from Elena, and the opportunity to closely observe Irina's behaviour toward her sister, she felt closer to her mother. She now understood the choices Irina had made and the reasons why. She had left one family to find another. Everything was not lost. She missed her father and Francie greatly.

He would find her. She was out there somewhere hidden among six million people. No matter how long it would take him, where he would have to look, he would find her, and his daughter too. He just needed a lead, something, anything. A little burst of luck.

'A Russian accent', Chloé Sullivan had said. And Sydney had felt safe enough to leave with her. She had felt good enough with her to leave him. For her.

He should have figured it out sooner. He should have prevented her from taking Sydney away from him. His daughter. Their daughter. He was responsible he knew. If he hadn't driven Sydney away from him, she wouldn't have gone to her. Her mother. Supposedly dead but very much alive. He couldn't decide if he was relieved or angry that she was alive. He was certainly not happy. His wife. Laura. Irina.

TBC


	19. Chapter 18: 14th of July

COLLATERAL DAMAGE 

Eyghon

**Author's notes: **This chapter is a turning point, don't let the title give you false ideas, French stuff are minor. Careful if you skip the parade parts, wouldn't want you to miss a Jack or Irina/Syd scene. I must warn you, I have a very low opinion of the French Police, and I insist, everything in this chapter is nothing more than my personal opinion on things. Let me remind you also, that this is an AU so this does not follow the timeline of the show, concerning Syd's birth, Irina's arrival and departure, etc…Sydney is 18 ½ here and is not a spy.

Here you will find a nice animation of the evening fireworks near the Eiffel Tower. http/ 18: 14th of July**  
**  
Irina and Sydney took the metro to the 'Avenue des Champs Elysées' as the many closed streets didn't make the idea of going by car very appealing, Since 9/11, public celebrations in France were under tight security. For the 14th of July especially, the security forces were bordering on the overzealous. They were searching every spectator's bags and sometimes verified their identity. Irina realised the fear of terrorism was as real for the people across the Atlantic as it was for the Americans.

The tight security was also due to the murder attempt on the President Jacques Chirac during the same event in 2002. Three spectators had jumped on a man who was pointing a rifle at the President a few minutes before the parade had started. A shot had been fired without him or the Police noticing anything until people in the crowd called for them to come and help. Talk about an embarrassment for the Police.

Irina's bag was searched like the others by a Police officer before he would let her and Sydney enter the premises of the parade. She was relieved he didn't try to frisk her. It would have been embarrassing as she was packing a Glock 9 millimetre tucked into the back waistband of her pants.

The streets where the cortege would pass were packed with people and CRS. The women had a hard time finding a spot where they could actually see something without too many heads bobbing in front of them.

The 14th of July was traditionally celebrated with fireworks preceded by a giant military parade, in which every subdivision of every military corps is represented. The different sections in each army corps were complex and countless. Most French didn't know the half of it, beside the obvious: Paratroopers, Infantry, Artillery, Engineers…All the military schools were also joining the party, the best known among the French people being the military Saint-Cyr school.

IMGhttp/i2. IMGhttp/i2. Force and Navy

IMGhttp/i2. IMGhttp/i2. corps of Army

A foreign corps was sometimes invited to lead the parade. In 2002 it was a corps of the American military school of West Point, in 1999 the Moroccan National Guard. Usually, the parade held four thousand soldiers on foot, 1600 in vehicles and 300 on horses. One hundred planes and helicopters would fly over the Champs Elysées to the 'Place de la Concorde' where the Presidential tribune stood. Today, for approximately two hours, a total of 6000 men and women would parade to celebrate France independence, known by foreigners as 'Bastille Day'. The name referred to the Bastille prison, a symbol of the absolutism of the time, which was attacked and won over by the Parisians in 1789. This day is commonly known as '14 Juillet' or 'Fête Nationale' among French is the equivalent of the American 'Fourth of July'. 

Chloé Sullivan had confessed nothing more than to following Sydney. She had been released the next day after an Amnesty International lawyer showed up asking embarrassing questions. The higher ups didn't want to bother with small fry and hadn't pushed to keep her. Jack was seething as he knew she had the answer he sought, but he had not choice but to let her go and find his answers elsewhere.

"You know in October you'll have to sign up for the university," stated Irina, as they waited for the parade to start.

"Yeah, I thought about it and I don't really know what to major in. I mean, it's not like they have a degree in American literature here."

"No they probably don't, but you could major in English."

"Major in English? What would it give me?"

"You could teach English. I looked it up in the internet when you choose France. I wanted to make sure you could have a proper degree."

"And?"

"…and you can take a Licence, which lasts three years, or a Master, which is five. A doctorate lasts eight years and it would allow you to teach English in university."

"Like you did? That sounds great," replied Sydney, relieved not to have to worry about what to do.

"I thought so too. Registrations have already started, but they're open till September. Class begins in October. In Paris, there are prestigious universities but the degree is the same, from whatever school you graduate. Of course, you'll have to start everything from the beginning."

"Yeah, I know. I didn't even get my first year at UCLA."

Irina could hear the regret in her voice and felt guilty. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to drag her daughter with her. Maybe she should have left her be and not contacted her again after she had brought her back to the States. Looking at her daughter, she knew she couldn't have just walked away from her without ever looking back.

"Mom?"

"Hummm?" Irina was pulled out of her morose thoughts by Sydney tugging at her sleeve.

"Where did you go?" Sydney asked, smiling.

"I'm right here Sweetheart, I'm right here." She kissed Sydney's forehead. "It's starting," she said as she spotted the cavaliers of the 'Garde Républicaine' and their horses. They had departed from the 'Place de l'Etoile' where a huge French flag had been hung under the 'Arc de Triomphe'. Soon they entered the 2 kilometres long 'Avenue des Champs Elysées' and passed Irina and Sydney and continued to the 'Place de la Concorde'. They were followed by other army corps, each group clearly separated from one another.

Francie had been interrogated by Jack Bristow. It was not a pleasant experience. She had kept lying through her teeth all along, and they both knew it. She had denied everything he threw at her, that she knew whom she had left with, and that she had helped her cover her tracks…Like with Chloé Sullivan, he was powerless.

Jack had asked question after question, to no avail. "I know you're hiding something from me, Miss Calfo, and I want to know what it is." He couldn't hold it anymore. He lost control over his temper, worried sick about Sydney. There was nothing he could have done to prevent Irina from taking back her daughter. She was smart; the thirteen years she had spent with him, right under the nose of the CIA, proved it.

What if she decided to bring Sydney into their business? That was Jack's greatest fear. That Sydney would turn out like her mother. He had prepared himself as best as he could for the eventuality. He had distanced himself from her since the very beginning of his life as a single father, as a widower, as a suspected traitor. It had hurt him, but it was for the best. If she ever turned on him, he wouldn't be hurt. He had reasoned this by logic, because that's the way Jack Bristow worked…with logic and planning ahead. It had saved him and his fellow agents countless times.

His thoughts brought memories along with them. The CIA report on his wife's 'accident' and her subsequent death had been very clear. Laura Bristow, aka Irina Derevko, was dead, but he knew otherwise. He had learned the truth a few years after the accident. As soon as he had realised it, he had tried to forget it, and had succeeded, until Chloé Sullivan mentioned the Russian accent of the woman who hired her.

Back in the 90's, he hadn't told anyone what he knew. Why bother? It would only have caused him more trouble. The CIA would have worried he would try to make contact with his wife or something.

He knew someday she would come back for her daughter. What mother wouldn't? However, as the years passed, as Sydney grew older, he thought Russia had dulled her mother's instinct and that they, both he and Sydney, were safe from her. Sydney turning eighteen was a relief for him. It meant she was 'out of the woods'. Why would Irina be interested in her 18 years old daughter? It was too late to mould her into a Russian agent.

So why did she take Sydney now? Why go to such great lengths, why come to the States and take the risk to be arrested by the CIA? If the agency was powerless in France or foreign countries, it certainly wasn't on its own soil. The crimes she committed were over ten years old and she wasn't on any 'shoot to kill' list, but she would still go to jail if they got their hands on her.

Just like Irina, though he didn't know it, he had made one mistake in his planning. One miscalculation had left him two steps behind his wife…the human factor. It was her love for her daughter. He had ignored this parameter and had allowed Derevko to take his daughter a second time. He had no doubt she was responsible for Sydney's kidnapping. It seemed so long ago now. He would have to ask her about that, before killing her. He wasn't here on official business, but the CIA wouldn't mind. Actually, they would never know. No one would ever know.

Still, would he dare? Would he have the courage to end her life? She had been his companion for thirteen years, his wife for eleven, and the mother of his child. She had done his laundry, helped him choose his ties, cooked him his favourite meals for years. She had made love to him. He was startled out of his thoughts at the memory of the countless times they had. The thought of her loving anyone made him sick. It wasn't love, never was. It was just sex. Lust had led to Sydney's existence.

That's the only thing he was grateful for, his daughter, his baby girl. It was hard, sometimes, often, to look at her. She looked so much like her mother. Any stranger could tell. She had inherited her mother's looks. Thinking of his daughter brought Jack on track. He needed to figure out what was Derevko's goal.

She must have an ulterior motive, but what? Why take their daughter to Paris? To hurt him? That must be it. The explanation didn't really convince him. Why now? It was too late, surely she knew Sydney and him weren't close, bordering on estranged. Sydney willingly leaving with Irina certainly stung, but her mother had probably threatened her never to see her again if she didn't come. Jack could understand his daughter's desire to know Irina.

His assumption was not very exact, though Irina never meant it as a threat. Unsure whether Sydney wanted her in her life or not, she had merely offered to get out of it forever, if Sydney wished so.

From their place, Sydney and Irina could see the troops arriving from up the street, slowly march down until they passed them.

Forming a tight cube of equal number in rows and columns, the men and women were walking in synch, lifting arms and legs at the same rhythm. They were preceded by their superior officers. Some of the leaders were carrying banners announcing who they were: army corps, company name, and number…All of the people parading were carrying swords or automatic rifles in a different fashion depending on which corps they belonged to. The officers walking in front occasionally raised their swords high in front of them. The jeeps, cars, tanks, military trucks, bikes, and horses were progressing in line or in specific formation.

All personal had put on their ceremonial uniform, with coloured pants and hats. The Marine Nationale (Navy) was especially distinguishable amongst the uniformed men. With them were parading the Armée de Terre (Army), Armée de l'Air (Air Force), Légion Etrangère (Foreign Legion), Garde Républicaine (National Guard), CRS (stands for Compagnies Républicaines de Sécurité, understand 'riot squads') and Gendarmerie Nationale. Among them were the Sapeurs Pompiers de Paris (Paris' fire-fighters). Composed of both military and civilians personal, they are considered the elite of French fire-fighters.

IMGhttp/i2. didn't get the difference between the 'Police Nationale' and the 'Gendarmerie Nationale', beside that they were driving different coloured vehicles. Irina wasn't too sure about that either, but assumed the Police was for the big cities and the Gendarmerie for the little cities. She heard someone in the crowd mention that the Gendarmerie was a military corps while the Police wasn't. It meant that both didn't obey the same rules or the same people.

IMGhttp/i2. IMGhttp/i2. Nationale

IMGhttp/i2. IMGhttp/i2. Nationale

After the planes and helicopters had flown over the area in formation the 'Patrouille de France' (aerial French Patrol) made a demonstration. They were in the most important official ceremonies and their classic trick was to do figures in the sky while releasing coloured smoke representing the country's flag.

IMGhttp/i2. Patrol performing above the 'Arc de Triomphe'

National TV broadcast the whole event from beginning to end on three out of six main TV channels. They showed the parade, the personalities, the crowded streets, and spectators and even the people watching from their homes,

Sydney and Irina enjoyed themselves and went home to eat lunch. They would go back to the Eiffel Tower for the evening fireworks.

He had found her! He knew where they were. An analyst working at the Rotunda had come to see him with a tape. Annoyed, Jack had pretended to pay attention while checking his email account. The man was babbling about how he had recorded a French ceremony broadcast on TF1, a French channel he received at his home by satellite. A young woman had caught his eye and Jack apparently needed to see it.

Jack glanced at the screen as the young man stopped the tape on the right frame and enhanced it. The camera was sweeping through the ranks of spectators; it had only lasted a second, but he could recognize his daughter anywhere. Sydney. He had found her! He had his moment of luck, finally. She was wearing a tee shirt and had her hair in a ponytail. She was squinting at something she saw because of the sun. The crowd was thick; numerous men and women surrounded Sydney. Irina was probably among them but Jack couldn't tell where due to the poor quality of the picture and his lack of knowledge on her appearance. In addition, the sun had prompted many people to wear caps and sunglasses. It was a wonder how the analyst had spotted his daughter. Then again, he was an analyst. When it was over, Jack would make sure to have him promoted.

Now he was on his way to Paris, but then what? What to say when he got there? What was he supposed to do? He couldn't bring the CIA into that. Irina Derevko was a Russian citizen, working for the SVR. She was wanted in the US for espionage and for killing twelve CIA agents some fifteen years ago. That didn't warrant an international warrant. Plus, it was embarrassing for the CIA to ask anyone to help them bring in a Russian spy from the Cold War who had fooled them all and had stolen from one of their own and killed right under their nose.

Without a warrant, French authorities wouldn't help bring her in. Even the DGSE (Direction Générale de la Sécurité Exterieure), the French secret services agency, wouldn't do it under the table, as a favour to their American colleagues. Since 9/11 and the war in Iraq, international relations had shifted. Even the most secret governmental agencies over the world were avoiding being friendly with each other. It was business, nothing more, nothing less. No favours Jack were owed could help him in this mess.

Discreetly entering France with a black-ops team was out of the question. If they were caught, the French would be furious and so would Washington. It would further jeopardize the relationships between the two countries and even Irina Derevko was not worth the risk.

It left it up to him. He was on his own. What would he do when he got there? His superiors had specifically told him not to go near Derevko. Their daughter had left America willingly it seemed and she was over 18 so there was nothing anyone could do. Langley had granted him three weeks of vacation and wanted nothing to do with him during his time off. As a father, he had a shot, and he was going to take it. He doubted Sydney had thought it through. How could she leave him for her psychopathic mother she hadn't seen in twelve years was beyond him. He was going to bring her back to her senses, and to Los Angeles, even if he had to drag her by the hair. As for Laura…Irina, he hadn't decided on the issue yet. He would think of a plan when he would land in Roissy Charles De Gaulle airport.

The clerk at Avis handed him the keys of a Mercedes. He wasn't particularly fond of those powerful, fast going cars but knew to appreciate their efficiency. The little monster would help him ditch – or catch up – with any car if he were to engage in a hot pursuit.

Within two hours, he had made contact with Julien Protois, an old friend residing in Paris. The man sitting in the passenger seat directed him to the spot where Irina and Sydney had been standing two days earlier for the cerebration of July 14. If Jack weren't so sick at the prospect at seeing his wife in the flesh, even from a distance, he would have noted the irony of the situation.

Jack recognised the building in front of which Irina and Sydney were standing when he saw them on national TV. His contact explained that for security reasons, it was very hard to come to the ceremony by car so the people he was looking for had probably taken the metro. Jack agreed with him and they went to the nearest station where they found a control post. Showing his Police card, he asked in perfect French to see the tapes of the cameras inside and outside the 'George V station', from where Irina and Sydney had probably come. The security agent grimaced, arguing that it would take forever to find someone on those tapes because of the abundance of people who had taken the metro that day. It was like looking for a needle in a haystack, he said.

The picture was grainy and Jack complained about it. The security agent explained that the cameras were meant to discourage aggressive behaviour, hence them being placed in plain sight. They were not supposed to be sneaky or able to capture every little thing in its view without being thought of as spying on its citizens. Jack huffed and made him forward the tape to 9h00, a little before the parade began. He spotted his daughter exiting the station, accompanied by and older looking woman. He was right. From there, he found the train they had came in and traced back their path.

They had exited the train at 'Luxembourg station' and had gone toward the exit, not to another train, so that's where they must be living. He grabbed a map and traced a circle around Luxembourg station extending to the surrounding stations. Sydney and Irina were somewhere in that circle.

The heat was really starting to get annoying in the French capital. Sydney like Irina found it unpleasant. The air was dry and the sun was hard. The high number of cars circulating in Paris wasn't helping matters. They had decided to spend their 'vacation' in the west of France, the best choice where the weather was concerned. There was wind, beach, and sun. Sydney had wanted to go south, on the worldly known 'Cote d'Azur', in Cannes. Irina had refused because it was an insane idea: in August, the region was overcrowded, the streets and the beaches impracticable.

So they had settled for the most practicable and enjoyable choice: Britain, at the western point of France. They would go by car. One day, Irina had just come home with her very own BMW. She had explained it by getting tired of getting from place to place by cabs or trains and needed her independence. Sydney didn't care much because Irina wouldn't let her drive the car. Too powerful, she had said, the Parisian traffic was not for a beginner, she said. What a typical mother she could be sometimes, Sydney thought.

In two days, they would be away from the madness of the French capital. When they had gone to Nancy, they had mostly spent their time at Elena's without doing much sight seeing. Sydney was eager to discover another region of France, but she hoped she wouldn't get bored. She had packed ten books for the trip. Her mother was not happy about her habit of reading relentlessly. Irina felt Sydney should go out more and try to make some friends. Sydney had snorted and rolled her eyes, saying she would have all the time to make friends once she was at university.

A circle. That was all he had to go on. A circle on a map. They had probably new identities, which meant new names, new date of birth…he had no personal information on either his daughter or his wife. Nothing to track them down to a more precise location than a four street radius. Paris was such a big city; he couldn't just stand on the sidewalk and look around him in hopes of spotting them.

What if Irina saw the broadcast? The thought was pushed aside immediately. The parade had lasted two hours, and the chance that the two seconds sequence in which Sydney appeared would be shown in the news was close to none. Still, if Irina knew Sydney had been spotted on camera, or even that cameras were filming the crowd, she would probably flee the country. She would take her daughter and make her change her appearance and he would never see either of them again. He had to find them quickly.

Irina's cell phone rang. One the other end of the line, one of her contacts informed her of the arrival of an eminent CIA agent in Paris. The agent was none other than Jack Bristow.

TBC


	20. Chapter 19: Confrontation

COLLATERAL DAMAGE Eyghon 

**Author's notes:** Thanks to Lenafan for the beta reading and to 'WildC' for telling me a long time ago how to put pictures in fics. Speaking of which, I meant to show you what a French suburb looks like sooner, in Chapter 17, but I couldn't find any pictures on the internet (like I did for '14th of July'). Note that a house in or near Paris is often older, bigger, or more closed up than a house in Province (It is what the whole country outside of the capital is called). The information below does not necessarily apply to the whole of France because each region has its specificities (climate, history, administrative requirements, style of houses…)

IMGhttp/i2. IMGhttp/i2. typical French house is surrounded by the garden, and closed up to the outside by bushes all around (#2, the house top left corner) with a gate in the front (#1, opened in the picture). A driveway leads to the house (#1) and in the back there is a concrete yard where you can eat outside from May to September. Flowers hanging from the windows are common occurrence (#1) and French are also big on fruit tree (#2, bottom left corner) like cherry tree, red currant bush, raspberry cane, strawberry plant… and kitchen garden, full of tomatoes, radishes, carrots…

Our mailboxes are quite ugly compared to those in 'Desperate housewives' or 'Gilmore girls' but they are always half hidden in bushes (#1, right). The tiny yellow spot you can see (#1, left) is the equivalent of the big blue 'US mail' mailboxes you can find in the streets.

**Chapter 19: Confrontation**

Jack was sitting in air-conditioned hotel room, thinking. He needed to figure out how to find Irina and Sydney. One could say he didn't even have an idea of who he was looking for. He had no names, no recent picture, nothing. Without a paper trail, there was no way he could get their address. Maybe in the beginning of the school year, Sydney would enroll in the university, but until then, there was nothing he could do.

Suddenly it clicked. Sydney. Sydney loved to read. She couldn't go anywhere without a book with her. Maybe, just maybe, she had signed herself up in a library near where she lived, and maybe, just maybe, she had given her address. Why wouldn't she? Irina must think herself protected, and she certainly wouldn't stress Sydney by telling her not to give out her home address, under any circumstances. It was worth a shot.

Hanging up, Irina couldn't help but replay the last few days in her head. What had gone wrong? She must have made a mistake somewhere, otherwise the CIA would have never found her and Sydney. It was not her habit to question herself, but she knew there were no other explanations for Jack being here. She had prepared everything on her own and the few people indirectly involved in her moving to France didn't know whom they worked for or why exactly. The contact who had just called her was merely watching the Parisian international airport for a number of known targets she gave him. He had no idea she was in Paris herself.

Obviously, she needed to leave the city immediately, but didn't know what to tell Sydney. Her daughter had finally accepted the idea of living in Paris, away from her other life, her 'American life'. She had finally settled in her room. She left it bare for many weeks before admitting to herself that it would be her room from now on. She had started to refer to the apartment as 'home', and not as 'the apartment' like she did for weeks upon their arrival.

Irina couldn't just yank her out of her life again and tell her that it's because her father was after them. It was an endless circle; Jack had found them once and he would do so again and again until he had them. Irina didn't want a life on the run for her daughter no more than she did for herself. She was happy with the new lifestyle. She missed the action but spending time with Sydney, cooking for her, even their bantering was pleasant to her. She enjoyed it more than she thought she would.

She would talk for hours about herself and her childhood, and enjoyed sharing her experiences with her daughter, but the most thrilling thing was the teaching. One evening Irina had commented on how Sydney had defended herself against Nikolai and then Irina herself. She had shown pride and admiration and Sydney had blushed, explaining she had picked some moves from a boyfriend in high school. He had been taking martial art classes since he was ten and had shown her a few basic moves so she could defend herself. She was athletic and had taken a great interest in the body's capabilities and moves.

Irina had found herself showing off her abilities as a street fighter. Sydney had asked her mother to teach her. Irina had gladly accepted, happy to pass on one of her many talents to her daughter, without any ulterior motives. She was in excellent physical shape despite her life away from business. She had no further interest in training Sydney than to give her daughter the ability to defend against attack. Now, Irina needed to defend herself against Jack.

Eventually, Sydney would leave Irina. That was bound to happen one day or another. Sydney was eighteen going on nineteen; she couldn't live with her mother indefinitely. Someday she would have to leave and make her own life, her own home. Irina wondered what she would do with herself then…maybe go back to business, but she still had time to think about it.

It was only a matter of time before Jack showed up at the apartment. She had left no traces behind indicating their precise location, but he would find a way to them, somehow. He always did. That was his job, among other things, to find people in hiding.

Irina needed time to think, to devise a plan, to decide where to go, what to tell her daughter. For now, she needed Jack Bristow off her back. She knocked on Sydney's bedroom door.

"Sydney?"

"I'm almost done packing; I'll just have to add the last necessities."

"Good! I need to run an errand. I won't be gone long. Do you need anything?"

"Uh…Yeah I could use some pens. But hey, I'll come with you. I meant to get out and get some fresh air anyway."

"Oh, no, sorry, I have other things to do. I don't want to drag you into my boring things. Take your rollers and go out."

"Oh, what do you have to do?"

"I want to drop by the convenience store to pick up a few things for the road and I have business at the post office. You don't want to stand in line with me for one hour on such a beautiful day I'm sure. It's going to take me around two hours. How does that sound?

"Good. I'll just go out for awhile and then fix of dinner with what we have here."

"Later, sweetheart." She kissed Sydney on the cheek and left the apartment, cell phone already on her ear.

From her bedroom window Sydney was observing as students were hurrying up the street to Henry IV high school. Sydney noticed the yellow flashing light of the underground parking garage was on, and soon heard honking, signalling pedestrians to watch out for an incoming vehicle. A grey coupe suddenly appeared, its motor roaring under the effort of climbing the steep alley. Sydney couldn't get a good look at the driver but recognised the licence plate. 4700 FOR 75. It was her mother's car and she would bet it was her mother behind the wheel.

The old lady sitting at the entrance desk of the library was rather uncooperative and quickly getting on Jack's nerve. French were very touchy on confidentiality. He had tried to bribe her with twenty euros and she had been offended. Finally he had to resort to waiting for her to put books in shelves to sneak into her computer.

He opened the inscription file and viewed them by date. There it was, two months before: 'Sydney Stevenson, Appt 12, 19 rue de l'Estrapade, 75005 Paris'. He had the address, now he just needed to devise a plan.

Irina was now a woman with a plan. She called Clément, the man who had told her about Jack arriving in Paris. He had been tailing her husband ever since he had set foot out of the airport. He told her the name of the hotel were Jack was staying and his room number.

Borrowing a maid's key, she let herself in. The room was empty, the bed made. The maid had just left. Irina wouldn't have to worry about hiding before Jack came home. Taking out the gun that never left her, she screwed a silencer on it. She hadn't used it in a while; the magazine was full. She would have plenty of bullets.

Patiently, she waited, hidden in the walk in closet. The bathroom would have been more comfortable but such a logical choice. Jack would feel a presence in his room and would check the bathroom first. That's exactly what happened, thirty minutes later just when Irina was starting to worry she wouldn't make it back home in time. The door clicked shut behind him, masking the noise of a safety being released. He gently eased the bathroom door open and realised it was empty at the same time as he felt a cold object pressed against his neck.

"Hello Jack. Drop your gun in the bowl please."

Catching his breath, he obeyed. It's not as if he had any other choice. He lifted his hand without waiting for her to tell him to do so. He knew the drill. Now she was going to make him kneel and shoot him in the back of the head. Execution style. Professional job. Soon he understood he had misjudged her. Apparently, she wanted to do this 'Derevko style'. Whatever. The ending was the same for him. He felt dejected. He was so close to his goal…he should have known she wouldn't let herself approached so easily.

She cuffed his hands behind his back and made him sit on a chair. He wasn't going anywhere.

"You took my daughter," he spat out, scornful.

"I didn't take her. She came with me on her own free will."

"Yeah, just like when she disappeared from the mall parking garage."

"No. I…That was…It's complicated." Irina should have expected him to bring it up. He had been here no more than ten seconds and had already made her lose her self-confidence. The irony that she was giving him the same answer she had given Sydney all those months ago was not lost on her.

"Then make it easy for me."

"Like I told Sydney…"

"What did you tell Sydney?" He asked brusquely.

Her cell phone rang. She was thankful for the interruption but hesitated when she saw the number. It was Sydney, calling from the apartment. Irina picked up. "Hey sweetheart, what is it? Of course, it's no trouble. See you soon." She hung up and made another call, keeping her gun trained on Jack. "It's me. I need you to pick up a pack of 'Petit Ecolier' for me. It's biscuits, flavour milk chocolate." The phone went back in her pocket.

Jack watched her, mouth agape. "You didn't tell Sydney I was here, did you?"

"No I didn't. She left you, remember?"

"That's your version, and I don't believe a word out of your mouth. What did you tell her about yourself? Did you tell her why you married me? Did you tell her you kill people for a living?"

"She knows who I am. I made sure of that. I wanted her to be certain that she could live with me without regretting her decision of leaving America."

"Well don't you think she would at least want to see me after all those months?"

"No. She doesn't. She never asked about you, not once."

"I don't be…"

"I don't care what you believe or not. Here's what I know. I left her with you twelve years ago, thinking that you would take care of her. Instead, you turned your back on her. You left her to grow up by herself, and I loathe you for that. You only have what you deserve."

"And what about you? You kidnapped her! If she knew it was you she would…"

"She knows Jack, and she accepts me for what I am."

"What lies did you tell her exactly? That your leaving wasn't your fault?" Mocked Jack.

"No. I told her exactly how it happened. I told her I married you on the KGB's orders. I told her I left when they threatened to kill the both of you if I didn't obey their order to come back to Russia."

Jack snorted in disgust. Irina ignored the interruption and went on with her story. "A few months ago I discovered the SVR was planning on eliminating you. I suggested another course of action that would allow us to get our hands on intel dangerous to us and the CIA."

"The disk. So you're the one responsible for all of this. Not only did you play a part in Sydney's kidnapping, but you actually orchestrated it yourself! You're responsible for everything else that happened! Sydney's injuries, the goddamn tape, me being shot…"

"Yes I did plan the operation, but I certainly didn't order Nikolai to torture Sydney. He took it upon himself to punish her for fighting him back. And your little stunt with Probulov didn't help her either. You provoked that. You defied him, you had to play smart-ass and he turned on her to give you a lesson. On my part I didn't know what was happening, they conveniently called me back for a meeting in Moscow! They tricked me and I hate myself for falling into their trap and not being there for her, but it was an accident!"

"It would have never happened if you hadn't kidnapped her in the first place!"

"I did it to save your life you moron! Didn't you listen to anything of what I said!"

"Lies! All lies!"

"I wouldn't kidnap my own daughter for a stupid disk, I was trying to save you…"

"Save me! What do you care about me? You're about to kill me!"

"I'm not! I just wanted to talk to you! And you're right, I don't care about you, but I care about Sydney. I wanted to spare her the pain of losing you!"

"You keep me from seeing her! What's the difference?"

"She knows you're alive and she's happy with it. I'm telling you the truth Jack."

"The truth! Don't you talk to me about truth! You lied to me! You…"

"This is not about you, Jack. This is about our daughter and her happiness."

"And what? You're going to tell me she's happy with you? You took her away from her home, from her friends, from her father, from me!"

"I took nothing from you. You had already lost it years ago, on your own. You lost her by your negligence. I didn't force her to do anything. She came with me willingly as the result of your failures as her father. You don't deserve her. You had her for twelve years and wasted it all in the name of your job!"

"It's not just a job! And what about you? You left because of your job, worse, you came in the first place because of your job! You had Sydney because of your job!"

The accusation stung. Irina replied, furious, "don't you ever say that again. Don't you dare to accuse me of getting pregnant for the KGB! It's the one true thing between us. She was born out of love, not for the sake of our marriage or my job. I wanted her for us. Don't soil her like that."

"Out of love?" He laughed. "There was no love between you and me, Irina! There never was because you lied to me our whole marriage. You soiled her yourself even before she existed. You soiled her the first time you whored yourself to me, Irina." He emphasized her name. It was the first time she heard him pronounce it.

She hit him, hard, again and again. "You bastard!" The chair fell back and broke, but she didn't notice, mad with fury. He wasn't moving anymore. His face was barely visible under the blood. Feeling a slight pang of guilt, she knelt by his side and checked his pulse. It was good. She dialled her contact's number and he knocked at the door ten minutes later.

Irina entered her car, two grocery bags in her arms. Her contact had done well. How surprised he had been when she had called him to give him a list of items to buy at the 'Intermarché' three streets down from her apartment. She couldn't come home empty handed and wouldn't have time to both visit Jack and shop within the time frame she had told Sydney she would be back. Now the same contact was transporting Jack to a warehouse by the western train station. He would keep him there for forty-eight hours and release him. She ordered him to feed his prisoner but to not to talk to him or injure him.

"Mom?"

"Hey sweetheart, I got you your biscuits."

"Great, thanks!"

"Did you have fun?"

"Yeah I was out for like one hour. I ran into other people in roller, they told me there's this big thing tomorrow. It's called 'Paris roller'. During the summer, every Friday night at 22h00 people in roller gather to do some rollerblading in the streets."

"In the streets? Isn't that dangerous?"

Sydney rolled her eyes. "No, it's not. It's organised with the city, there's a path to follow and all the streets on it are closed to cars. I thought I might go." 

"That sounds great sweetheart. What time will you be home?"

"Well, I heard it's pretty long so I'll probably won't go all the way because I kind of suck but I think I'll stick around till midnight."

"Okay, well you can go but only if you take my cell phone with you so you can call here if you want me to pick you up."

Sydney chuckled, "okay, thanks, but just so you know, I'm eighteen so it's supposed to mean I don't need your permission to do anything."

"Oh yeah? Who said that?"

"I'm just joking, at least with you I can talk. Dad was always like 'No you will not go' and that was the extent of the discussion."

"Well I can be like that sometimes too. If you had asked me if you could go to a club with some perfect strangers you met today, I would have said no and it would have been the end of the discussion."

"Okay, noted. Will you drive me to the meeting point? It's at Montparnasse."

"Sure."

"Hey, did you carry those all the way from the store on your own?"

"Of course I did. It's not so heavy and I can handle it."

"Oh. Okay." Sydney had wanted to see if her mother would lie about taking the car and she had. Shopping and going to the post office couldn't have taken two hours, even if both places were crowded.

What was her mother hiding?

TBC


	21. Chapter 20: A level of maturity

COLLATERAL DAMAGE 

Eyghon

**Author's notes:** I hope you'll enjoy this chapter and that you will take the time to review. Even a few words would be nice. Many thanks to Lenafan who helped out a lot in the writing of this chapter.

**Chapter 20: A level of maturity****  
**

"Our next stop is Germany, but so far, France is where we had the most fun," explained Katy, an American tourist Sydney met at Montparnasse while waiting for the pack to leave. They had been skating side by side for one hour with Katy's friends Kevin and JT. Her mother's cell phone ring interrupted the conversation.

"Sorry, I have to take that."

"Okay, see you!" Her new American friends skated away as she put the phone to her ear.

"Yes?" She asked, expecting her mother to be checking on her. Instead, a man's voice greeted her.

"Irina? It's me. I'm sorry. I don't know what happened. He escaped!"

"Who…"

"The CIA agent! Jack Bristow!"

Sydney froze, gulping.

"Irina? I know you're mad, but I swear it was an accident!"

"Hey fais gaffe!" Yelled a young blonde guy as he practically slammed into Sydney who had slowly stopped skating and came to a complete halt. Mouth gaping, she slowly clicked the phone shut. Her head was spinning. She could feel nausea going up into her throat. She moved away from the continuous thread of incoming roller skaters and settled against a wall. A few minutes later, she called Irina and wanted to be picked up.

Less than ten minutes later, the familiar BMW pulled up and Sydney climbed in before her mother could get out.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah."

"Are you sure? You seem…distracted. Did something happen? Did you fall?"

Sydney could feel her mother's anxious gaze run over her body, checking for injuries. "I'm fine Mom. I was just thinking. About Dad. I wonder how he's doing, you know?" Sydney watched carefully for her mother's reaction at the mention of Jack but there was none. "Do you have news about him?"

"No. My guess is that he's looking for us and has questioned your friend Francie but I don't know where he stands precisely. Why the sudden interest in him?"

"I don't know. It's been so long. I was just curious I guess."

Irina nodded pensively.

Clément was pacing on the sidewalk, undecided as to what his next move should be. His cell in hand, he mentally explored his possible courses of action. He could call Irina back, who had hung up quite abruptly. She was mad at him for his failure and he knew there would be consequences. She must have sent someone after Bristow already but wouldn't let Clément walk away un-scathed. She would make an example out of him. One of her goons, a guy just like him, was probably on his way, unless she was coming for him herself. The thought made him turn pale. Whether it was her or one of her men, he wasn't going to stick around to be tortured or killed.

He threw his phone in a nearby trashcan and jogged across the street where he entered the train station. He had to run now while he still could. Maybe his boss wasn't furious enough to bother sending someone after him on the other end of the world. Maybe, just maybe, he could get out of France unseen and settle in another country, undetected by her men and maybe he would live to see another day.

As soon as they were out the elevator, Sydney bolted to her room without a word. Irina shrugged it off and prepared herself for bed. She knew she wouldn't get any sleep tonight. She had too much on her mind.

No one spotted Jack yet at either Roissy CDG or in LAX, which meant he was still in Paris, tracking Irina. It was only a question of time before he found them. The time he had spent in her company and Clément's had only slowed his search. He would not give up. On the contrary, his encounter with his wife would only strengthen his resolve.

It was a matter of days before he showed up at the apartment, if he didn't already know where to find them. Sydney and Irina could never come back to Paris whether Jack found them or not, and that was something Irina wasn't looking forward to explaining.

They were scheduled to leave the day after tomorrow, but Irina had the feeling things wouldn't go as planned.

The next day, Sydney was sprawled on her bed, reading 'Voici', a French trash magazine about the life of French and mostly international stars. The magazine was often sued because of pictures taken in violation of French privacy laws. It wasn't unusual for the cover to display a large black and white notice of apology detailing the offence committed, the plaintiff, and the fee paid by the magazine.

Her mother had mocked her when she had 'busted' Sydney reading it a few weeks back. Sydney had replied that it was more interesting than 'Business Week', which her mother religiously read every Saturday. In truth, for Sydney, 'Voici' was some sort of link back to the US, as the American actors and singers were the main subject of the articles.

Irina knocked and waited for Sydney's answer to enter.

"Yeah?"

"If I ask you a question, will you answer truthfully?" Irina stepped inside the room.

"It depends. Do you answer truthfully when I ask you things?"

Irina frowned. "Things?"

"I know you didn't go shopping yesterday." It was an offer for Irina to tell the truth by herself, without Sydney having to tell her every thing she knew. Whether Irina took it, would determine the rest of their conversation but mostly Sydney's relationship to her mother in the near future.

Irina didn't physically react to the news, but analysed the situation. Clément must have not called on the secured line, the fool. Sydney had known Irina had captured Jack even before she went to fetch her. Hell, it explained her behaviour in the car.

"I see. What do you want to know?"

She didn't ask how Sydney knew, a good point for her. "Your cell rang while I was at the roller night. It was a guy saying that Dad had escaped. Why did you kidnap him?"

"Him being in Paris meant that he was close to finding us. I couldn't allow that now."

"When did he arrive in Paris?"

"Yesterday." She was fine with playing twenty questions. The last thing she wanted was to upset Sydney further by denying her the truth.

"He was really looking for me?"

"Us. He wants you back in the States and me in a prison cell or on death row."

"Where is he now?"

"I don't know. Probably on his way here, it depends on how good he is in extracting clues," she replied flatly, referring to Jack's ability to find pieces of information, which, put together, would lead him straight to his wife's hideout. There were always clues left behind, even if no one was aware of it. You just have to know where to look, and Jack knew because he knew his wife and daughter's habits.

"Is he okay?"

"I didn't hurt him too badly if that's what you're asking." Irina chose honesty for her answer. There was no need to hide her fight with Jack. It was nothing compared to what she had tried to do. Keep Jack away from them at all costs.

"Too badly?" asked Sydney, visibly worried.

"Surely you know that it is normal for a husband and a wife to fight about things…" Irina lifted her hands, trying to quell her daughter's anger at her patronizing tone. "My apologies. It's private."

"There's no such thing as privacy at this point, Mother."

"Your father wouldn't want me to tell you."

"So? I want the truth or I walk out of here and you will never see me again." Sydney sounded determined to do as she said. Irina gave in.

"He accused me of…several things that I didn't take well. I may have hit him a couple of times."

Sydney digested the information, but her curiosity heightened at the intentional vagueness of her mother's statement. She knew her father's ways. He could be harsh in the things he said. If he had managed to upset her mother to the point that she had lost her self-control, it must have been nasty. "What did he tell you that upset you so much? Please Mom, you can tell me."

After a moment's hesitation, Irina started speaking. "He basically called me a whore."

Sydney blinked. "That's it?" Keeping her eyes on her mother, she pushed. "There's something else. Come on, don't make me beg," she added, teasingly. Her pain and anger was forgotten the moment she saw her mother's eyes, hurt, and so full of pain.

"First, I want to say that it is untrue and that he knew it as much as I do. He just said those things to get to me. You can't believe a word of what he said."

"I know he can be quite…malicious when he's angry at you. I've been in your place before. Don't worry about me taking what he says at face value, 'cause I don't."

"He accused me of…getting pregnant for job purposes." Sydney gasped, mouth open. "I love you, Sydney, and whatever your father wants to think or say, from where I stand, you were conceived out of love."

Sydney noted mutely, tears in her eyes. "Bastard."

"Sydney! He's still your father! He didn't mean it to hurt you, but to hurt me."

"I know, but still, it hurts that he would go that far just to hurt you. Now I know where he stands on your case."

"He hates me."

"It seems so."

"Do 'you' hate me?" The question was a painful one, but Irina needed it to be answered, preferably with the truth, even if it hurt.

"No. Why would I?" Sydney gave her mother a questioning look.

"I lied to you. I kept your father from finding you."

"You were protecting yourself. I can understand that. But you should have told me."

"I'm sorry, Sydney. I was scared you would go back to him. I was scared of losing you." The times when Irina had let her walls crumble so she could show her deepest emotions to her daughter could be counted on the fingers of one hand. This was one of those times. She had just admitted how insecure she felt toward her daughter's love.

"I'm mad. I'm pissed off mad, okay. You lied to me. You kept Dad away from me. I mean, just as a matter of principle, I'm angry because you looked at me in the eye and you lied to me without even blinking. It scares me that you have the ability to do that. I'm your daughter. We should be able to talk without lying or hiding such little things. If you had told me Dad was here looking for us, we could have worked something out. I love you. I told you that already. Whatever you do won't make me change my mind. Seeing Dad won't make me stop loving you. Why do you always doubt me?"

"Sydney, I didn't mean…" Irina was horrified, and rightfully so. How stupid she had been to assume that… She would have hit the wall if she had been alone.

"I know it was involuntary. I'm just collateral damage, again. Next time something like that happens, just come to me. Don't be scared of me, of losing me, because it won't happen."

Irina felt as if Sydney had slapped her. All those things she was saying rang true. How could her daughter be so perceptive and loving when her own mother was so uncertain and full of doubts? "I'm so sorry…I never meant to hurt you, baby…"

"It's okay I know you didn't mean to hurt me, or Dad, even if his face is probably all blue and funny shaped like when he fell from his bike when I was little." She smiled at the memory that just popped out of nowhere into her head. She was trying to cheer her mother up a little, to get her to smile. Seeing Irina's face etched with pain made Sydney feel guilty for bringing this up in the first place. "Just forget it, it's no big deal Mom," concluded Sydney lightly. "Please? Come on, don't cry please…"

Irina shook her head, ridding her mind of the numbness that had settled in and recovering some colours in the process. "Sweetheart, you can't just say that and tell me to not speak about it anymore!" Irina couldn't believe how painful her daughter's words were. "I'm sorry for what I did to your father. I'm sorry I kept him from seeing you. I was scared of losing you. I should have known better, I'm sorry. I promise that, from now on, I'll discuss the matters where your father is concerned with you. How does that sound?"

She raised a hopeful look waiting for her daughter's response and held her breath. In Kashmir, she had shed many tears, partly from the physical pain inflicted on her by idiotic men, but mostly from the pain of leaving her family. The physical pain ripping through her heart day and night was a consequence of her mental turmoil she knew, but it didn't make it any less pleasant. The pain went away when Sydney gave her a bigger than average smile and went as far as to kiss her on the cheek on her way to the kitchen. Their relationship had been damaged by Irina's decision and it would take time to rebuilt what little had been destroyed, but it was a good start.

"What is there for dinner?" Sydney smiled.

Understanding her daughter's desire to do as if nothing had happened, she decided to play by her rules and replied, as cheerfully as she could muster, "Omelette."

"Great, call me when you want me to set the table."

"It's okay, I'll take care of it," replied Irina flatly as she gave up the happy image and stumbled in her own room. She needed some space. Her daughter had apparently forgiven her, but she hated herself for provoking the whole situation. Her maneuver aimed at keeping Sydney to herself had backfired and she had came very close to losing her without her even considering the possibility of that happening. 

That night, as Sydney was lying asleep in her bed, Irina was sitting in hers trying to read the same page for the third time. Her thoughts kept her distracted from the book, and she soon put it down on her nightstand, rubbing her face with her hands in an effort to clear her head.

Hours after her talk with Sydney, she still couldn't even begin to understand what had happened. Sydney's reaction, or lack of it, was frightening her. She had adopted such a cavalier attitude toward the whole thing, as if she simply didn't care.

How could Sydney just have sat there and told her all those things, how could she still be there, acting like her usual self was beyond Irina's comprehension. First, she had just not only sat there listening, but had also 'encouraged' her mother's explanations. She should have been freaking out, yelled abuse at her mother. How could her daughter still love her unconditionally after finding out that she had been lied to and that her mother had hurt her father voluntarily? How could she act so carefree, as if nothing had happened?

"MOM!"

Irina's head whipped up. Sydney had just screamed her name from the other side of the apartment. Grabbing her gun, she ran out of her room, not bothering to check each corner on her way to her daughter.

The whole apartment had been quiet since Sydney's scream. Irina's worst fear was confirmed when she pushed open the door to her daughter's bedroom.

A man was standing between the window and the bed, in which Sydney was sitting. He had a gun in his hand, pointed at Irina.

"Jack," she whispered, clutching her own gun.

"Irina."

Irina glanced at Sydney, who was recovering from her scare. She had woken up to a man dressed in black entering her bedroom. Her first instinct had been to scream for her mother's help before even glancing at the man. Despite her erratic breathing, she could hear the window clank against the cabinet in the bathroom. He had probably entered through it.

"Stop pointing your gun at Mom!" She got up the bed and placed herself between her mother and father.

"Sydney, get out of the way!" Yelled Jack, who was furious by her action. She recoiled and backed away toward Irina, still facing him. Her display of affection sickened him. She was blatantly ignoring him and siding with her mother against him.

"Don't point that gun at our daughter, Jack!" Snapped Irina, whose gun was dangling at her side, safety in place.

He felt like an idiot and obeyed, imitating his wife's posture. Thinking of her as such made him feel even sicker.

"No one is going to shoot anyone here, got it?" Asked Sydney in a surprisingly strong voice.

"What are you doing here Jack?" Asked Irina from behind Sydney. She didn't want to use Sydney as a shield but the young woman wouldn't budge despite her mother's attempts at stepping around her.

"I came for Sydney."

"Why the gun then?"

"I thought she was you," he replied as if the reason was obvious.

"So what, you were going to kill me in my sleep?" It made sense as Irina slept on her stomach, a fact that Jack likely remembered from his marriage. The woman usually woke with her hair spilled out around her. It was troubling that he didn't know his own daughter slept in the same position and was having the same hair problem as her mother. It was an honest mistake on his part to have assumed the woman he was seeing was Irina. Sydney's fighting skills had improved under Irina's training, but so had her silhouette. They now took runs in the morning in the streets of Paris and Sydney was now bearing an uncanny resemblance to her mother's physique, lithe and muscular.

"Something like that," he replied coldly, wincing as his answer drew a gasp accompanied by a look of horror on Sydney's face.

"It's okay, sweetheart." Irina's voice was soothing, a mother's voice. It only unnerved Jack further. The memories brought back by her voice were invasive and increased his jealousy. He was annoyed at both but there was nothing he could do about it now.

"I'm not interested in you, I only want Sydney back," he said, his voice cold.

"She's not my prisoner, Jack. If she wants to go with you, I won't get in her way."

"I don't want to," replied Sydney brusquely.

"What?" Asked Jack, flabbergasted, as if the possibility of a rejection had never occurred to him.

"I'm living with Mom, period. This is what I want, Dad. That's why I left in the first place."

"You can't be serious! You don't know what she's capable of. I do and I don't want you anywhere near her. If you had seen the true face of Irina Derevko you would be dead by now."

"I have, Dad. I have seen her true face, I have seen what she's capable of and I don't like it, but I accept it. I love Mom for who she is. I loved Laura and now I love Irina. Too bad you can't do the same."

"You only got a glimpse of who Irina Derevko is. You know nothing Sydney. Did you know, for example, that she kidnapped you? She's dangerous, but you'll be safer with me."

"Not to me. I saw, Dad. I saw her true face. I saw her for what she is but I still love her. She's my mother. I know what she did to me, and I still have nightmares from it," Jack missed the pained look on Irina's face at the mention of that particular event, "but what she did, it saved you and me both."

"Lies, all lies! She's feeding you lies and you're buying them. How can you be so naïve as to believe her over me?"

"It's not about who I believe. It's about what I want. I don't want to be with you, I want to be with her. I know what lies are; she lied to me I know that. I know she kidnapped you to keep you from seeing me, and yet here I am. I saw how far she's willing to go for me. That's all I needed to see."

"That's not the point! You belong in America with 'me', period. Get dressed, we're leaving, now!"

"Newsflash, I'm legal. I don't belong anywhere, and certainly not with you." She spat, fed up with his holier than thou attitude.

"Sydney…" He said in a warning tone.

"You couldn't even let go of that goddamn disk to save my life. How dare you give her or me lessons about what love is? She gave up her freedom, her life, only to be with me…"

"What are you talking about?"

"How do you think I got back to LA? Did you really think the SVR was going to let me walk away even if you had given them the disk? Now who's naïve?"

She knew, Jack realised. She knew everything about the botched exchange. She knew what he had done, willingly, even after seeing the tape. He felt shame but couldn't give up just yet. Addressing Irina, he smirked. "The snipers in Kiev, they were yours, weren't they?"

"Yes. I sent them to cover your back. I knew you wouldn't give the SVR what they wanted, no matter what the consequences were for your daughter," she spat angrily, still mad at him for endangering Sydney's life.

"She had them shoot me!" He told Sydney, pointing an accusing finger at Irina.

"Did you even wonder why?" Asked Irina quietly, throwing a reassuring look at Sydney who had blanched at the mention of just how exactly her father had come to be injured.

"What?"

"Did you wonder why I would ask the men supposed to keep you alive to shoot you?"

"The reason? You're insane, that's the reason! Don't try to steer the conversation away from your wrongs."

"It was my way of saying 'don't ever screw up again', Jack. Moreover, I still mean it. If, for whatever reason, you put our daughter in the line of fire, I will hunt you down and kill you, no matter what Sydney thinks."

Both Jack and Sydney got the feeling that she was not joking.

"Sydney, you're my daughter."

"I didn't choose my parents, believe me." That was harsh, and she winced as she said the words, but she wouldn't and couldn't take them back. Time to shake him up a little. "For a father, you know nothing about me. You didn't even know it was my birthday. She did."

"Sydney, I…"

"Were you even there at my birth?"

No, he wasn't. Laura had given birth to Sydney right on schedule. He had been called away on a mission and couldn't get out of it. Laura had reproached it to him for years, and now Sydney was. He couldn't find the strength to answer her, not that she didn't already know the answer. She went on…

"You claim you want me back but you never had me, Dad. When we lived together, you had no interest in me. I bet you had no idea I graduated valedictorian of my class in high school, did you? I bet you didn't know I graduated at the top my class. Numero uno, Dad!

"The first thing you did upon seeing me today was to shut me out. You're treating me like even less than a child. And here I thought you had changed! How naïve of me. You may have been a part in my genetic pool. I may call and refer to you as 'Dad' but understand you only bear the title of father, nothing more."

"That's enough!" The agent in Jack Bristow suddenly reared its ugly head as Sydney attacked the only thing that had a real purpose in his life, his fatherhood.

Sydney blinked, disturbed by her father's cold rage. She had never seen him in such a state. She had gone too far this time.

"Don't you see? Don't you see what she's doing?" He asked, raising his gun at Irina who had moved beside Sydney during the exchange, trying to quell her daughter's anger and to keep her from being too hurtful to Jack and failing miserably. She couldn't get to her gun; she had slipped it in her waistband to have her hands free.

"Don't!" Screamed Sydney, once again interposing herself between her parents.

"Irina Derevko, I am arresting you for twelve counts of murder and espionage.

"Dad, don't do that!"

"Drop your gun to the floor; get on your knees, hands behind your head…" Jack continued, even as he didn't have visual of Irina because of Sydney. Eventually, he was done with his litany and ordered Sydney out of the way, speaking to her as if she was of the same brand of 'people' as her mother. Said mother had curiously obeyed his orders and was begging Sydney to step out of the way from her position on the floor.

"I can't and I won't."

"Move. Or I'll make you," he threatened, out of control.

"I'll fight you if you try to get to her," warned Sydney, deadly serious.

His anger deflated like a pierced balloon, and he realised that he was pointing his gun at his daughter. He stared from the gun to her, disbelieving at his actions.

He forgot about Irina for a second and looked at his daughter, really looked at her. She seemed so grown up, standing before her mother, shielding her from him. It was a big mistake on his part to have forgotten about Sydney's birthday, and it had probably a lot to do with her decision to leave America. She resented him so much that she had just left her entire life behind to start a new one with a mother who she thought loved her.

Maybe she was right, maybe Irina really loved her. That thought curiously scared him more than anything. He loved Sydney too, that was unquestionable, but Irina was willing to go to great lengths just to 'be' with Sydney. He couldn't give away the disk for her. Irina had turned her back on her country. She had betrayed her agency and put her life on the line by doing so. He had almost gotten his only child killed because he was unwilling to sell out his agency. Still, he argued, she had too, when she had kidnapped Sydney. She had endangered her more than he had.

Those were ridiculous thoughts and he felt petty about it. Still, he couldn't admit that he was more of a bad parent than she was. It just couldn't be. Love wasn't everything in a relationship. His love and Irina's wasn't enough for Sydney. Irina was giving her something else that he wasn't, but what.

"I…I'm sorry Sydney." What was he thinking? He couldn't jail Irina; Sydney would hate him for the rest of his life. If it wasn't already too late. He tucked his gun away and stepped forward to help Irina up, under the watchful eye of their daughter.

"I'm alright sweetheart," reassured Irina, kissing Sydney on the forehead. She didn't let go of Jack's hand until Sydney stepped forward to hug her. The young girl glared at her father before leaving the room to give her parents the opportunity to talk.

Having observed the two of them this evening, consciously or not, Jack had his answer now. Irina was 'seeing' Sydney. She was seeing her for who she was. A person, an equal, someone to show affection to. She was giving her daughter her attention even without Sydney asking for it. He didn't know how to do that, hadn't in a long time, but Irina knew.

"I screwed up, didn't I?" He asked, sitting on a chair.

"Yes. You did." He would have smiled at her honesty if he wasn't in so much emotional pain.

"It's okay. I did too you know," she added, surprising him once again.

"You did?"

"Of course. That's what parents do. We can consider ourselves 'normal' in that domain."

"On a scale of one to ten, how bad did we screw up?"

Irina didn't reply for the moment, but let out a half-hearted chuckle. "You know, Jack, she's a wonderful young woman. She's been through a lot the past few months and has matured, in spite of us. Isn't that what all parents want for their children?"

He looked at her, nodding. "I guess, but it was so fast."

"Well, we can certainly take credit for that!" Irina laughed.

THE END

**Author's notes:** Surprised? Sorry I didn't tell you that this would be the last chapter. I felt it would spoil your reading. Yes, it is really the end. There will be no epilogue or sequel because this is the ending I had in mind since the beginning. I feel that going further would ruin the whole story. I hope you enjoyed reading Collateral Damage as much as I did writing it. I didn't think it would go on for twenty chapters when I started, but I enjoyed this too much to let go too soon.


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